Demonic Heralds
by lunerwerewolf
Summary: It was just another day in the great demon kingdom when two white horses showed up and turned the lives of 2 half-breeds upside down. Heralds/Kyo kara Maou x over. rating will go up in later chapers. Yozak/Conrad full summery inside.
1. It all started with a colt

Summary: It was just another day in the great demon kingdom until two white horses showed up and turned the lives of two half demons upside down. Born to a world where their kind is accepted by neither human nor demon, and generally hated by both, can these two sons of both tribes survive in a new world with a pair of talking horses in toe? And can they learn to trust the Heraldic circle, and eventually become a part of it? Rated for later chapters, rating may eventually go up. Hurt/comfort/drama/friendship Slash (Conrad/Yozak) mentions of past abuse, mental and physical, twisted laws, and anything else we can come up with at 2am.

Disclaimer: I and my mooncalled coauthors own nothing but our own strait jackets and some seriously twisted OC's. We are starving students so don't sue us all you will get is some pocket lint, and a round of rabies vaccines after the werewolf bites you. Okay? Okay awooo, on with the story.

Chapter 1: It all started with a Colt

Jissa sighed as she watched the young foals frolic in the grasses of Companion's Field. She turned her head to the grass at her feet and took a mouthful, watching quietly as her younger brother frolicked with the younger foals. At five years of age, Vanyel was still technically a colt. In another five to eight years however his time as a child would officially end when he gained his own Chosen. At eleven years of age her time of leisurely frolic was rapidly drawing to a close. Two months ago she'd began to feel the first stirrings of her still latent bond to the person who would one day become her Chosen.

It was a strange feeling, having the usually dormant bond with her Chosen flare to life like that. It had only lasted for a minute at most, but it was a completely addicting feeling. She knew from the first stirrings of that bond that she could and would forgive her Chosen of anything. From that initial glimpse down what would one day be their Companion-Herald bond, she'd sensed her Chosen's mirth, and seen briefly through his eyes. Since then she'd learned so much more about her Chosen; for one thing he was definitely male. For another he traveled - a lot. His hair was so red it was almost orange, and his eyes were almost as blue as her own.

She snorted in mild amusement at the sight of her little brother as the colt came so abruptly to a halt that he nearly fell over. Vanyel pawed at the ground, tossing his head about, so that his mane flared. Then, his tail flagged, he turned and headed off for the Grove at a full Companion gallop.

Curious as to the source of his haste, she followed, just at a more sedate pace.

Vanyel, when she caught up to him was deep in discussion with the Grove Born stallion, Rolan. The colt simply could not hold still, he pranced about, both in place and around the older stallion. She'd never seen him in such a state – in either lifetime! Her beloved 'Father Peacock' was currently putting on a flashier display then any peacock she'd ever seen! She'd have been strongly reminded of a little given too much sugar, if not for the rational words he was currently broadcasting.

_: Why is this happening? : _he asked, his mind voice heavy with concern. _: I'm only just five; I should be at least ten before this starts. Yet I can FEEL my Chosen. He's not in any danger, but I can feel him! The bond is almost fully formed, Rolan! All I have to do is actually Choose him. Sayvil told me I wouldn't know my Chosen's name until it was time to go out and find him. Well I know his name, and I know where he is! Why am I Choosing so young? What is this going to mean for Valdemar? No Companion in history has Chosen this young that wasn't Grove Born! How am I even supposed to Choose him? He's on a different world. I mean that literally!!!!!! :_

He continued to bounce about, working himself up into a froth. She didn't know what to do—on the one hand she yearned to comfort him – having to figure out how to Choose someone in another world couldn't be easy. On the other hand, it was his problem, his conversation, and his Chosen. She'd talk to him later, she decided, after Rolan had gotten him calmed down! She turned to leave –

- and was hit between the eyes with a flood of information.

She knew her Chosen's name.

And Vanyel's problem had just become her problem.

She sighed, loathed as she was to interrupt the Grove Born and her hyperactive younger brother, she had very little choice in the matter now. She made the mental equivalent of clearing her throat, before stepping into the Grove. _: It would appear that I have the same problem. : _she quietly informed them_._

She got the impression that Rolan was only mildly surprised by this new turn of events. The Grove Born tossed his head briefly and looked at her out of one extremely wise blue eye, to his left Vanyel had gone still at her announcement.

_: It would appear that we have your answer, Companion Vanyel. : _He said mildly. _: It takes a great deal of power to open a gate to another world, a gate that would have to be reopened so you can get home. It would prove easier to send you both through such a gate at once, rather than to simply send Companion Jissa now and to have you follow in a few years time. : _

Vanyel pawed impatiently at the ground. : What_ do we do now, Rolan? : _he asked calmly_. _

Rolan turned his head and glanced down at him out of one sky blue eye. _: For now, I must speak with the Companions who are bound to the Herald mages, only those whose Heralds are Adept class. We will need their power, combined with your latent bonds to your chosen as a focus, in order to send you two into the proper world. :_

_: How long will it take to set up the spell, Rolan? : _Jissa asked, her voice laced with curiosity, concern, and impatience.

It was Vanyel, however, who answered her question. As a mage he had the practical experience_. : It won't take more than a few minutes time to set the gate; the problem is you have to know a place; have to set foot there before or the gate won't work. By using our bonds to our future Chosen, we will take the memories of the world and its lands, how it looks and how it feels, from our soon to be Chosen. But it will take time for the mages to garner the power to set the spells that will allow them to follow the bond to our Chosen. :_

_: Ok, so then _how _long will it take to set up the spell?: _Jissa asked with mild exasperation.

Rolan interjected before Vanyel had a chance to get overly technical again. _: It should take about a week for the mages to be ready to trace the bonds and gather the information we need to send you after your Chosen. A fortnight at most and the two of you will be off chasing down your Chosen. :_ He gave a purely mental sigh. _: I will call for the two of you when the time comes. Until then, your time is your own. : _

_: Thank you, Rolan. :_ they responded almost simultaneously.

~~~***~~~

Vanyel pranced in place, impatient and more than a tad uncertain. He'd spent the past three days trying to find tack that would fit him. At this point he wouldn't have cared if the only rig they could find had been around in his previous life. He wouldn't even have cared if it was so tatty and old it was no longer blue, so long as it fit, and was secure enough to safely hold his Chosen until they reached the Collegiums. They hadn't been able to find anything even remotely close to the size he needed, not even in the tack sheds they kept the ordinary horse tack in! Everything there was either too big or made for a pony! He stomped a silver hoof in irritation. He needed tack, any tack; if he was going to go into another world and get his Chosen, he'd have to get tack. And while he honestly didn't care if he had to wait until he finished growing to get his tack, he had always pictured Choosing his Herald in full formal array, just like every other Companion had unless there were extenuating circumstances.

He needed to speak to Rolan.

He found the Grove Born stallion near the Grove, actually at the base of the very tower T'lindal had suicided off of. Sometimes it was still painful to stand in the very place he'd lost his first lifebonded. Talia, Elespath, three other Herald-mages, and their Companions stood with him, tracing out a magic circle of strength and protection to help ground the gate that would soon stand there. _: Rolan?: _Vanyel sent quietly, trying not to disturb the preparations for the magical workings that would soon be taking place here.

_:Not now, Vanyel. : _he replied, obviously preoccupied.

_: Rolan - : _he began again only to be cut off by the older stallion's tart reply.

_:Busy: _he retorted sharply.

Vanyel snorted, pawing impatiently at the ground. This was important – and if the Grove Born was unwilling to listen to him … he'd just have to make him!

Courtesy be hanged!!!!!!!!

He stomped one hoof, scrapping up the turf as he did so. Annoyed he reared up to his full height, and screamed like a small child for Rolan's attention with mind and voice. He landed gracefully on all four hooves, to the astonished gazes of all of the Heralds and Companions currently present.

For one highly amusing moment, he thought the older Companion's jaw would come unhinged, and then the stallion drew himself up to his full height – though his hooves remained firmly planted on grass. _: What ?: _the stallion snapped, his mindvoice pitched in a loud broadcast sending Vanyel was sure even Herald Talia heard. Hell, he was sure they heard him in Whitegriffon.

Vanyel pranced in place. _: I don't have tack. : _He sent plaintively, suddenly feeling like the rebuked colt he currently was.

For a moment the Grove Born just stood there, then turned his head and sent a flood of images at his Chosen. The Queen's Own, Talia blinked before inclining her head briefly to her Companion. She turned and calmly walked over to his side, gently patting his shoulder. "Come Youngling," she said kindly. "Let's get you some tack."

Vanyel refrained from telling her he was older them she was, as he followed her out of the field. Within the hour he found himself fitted for tack that would be done within the week. If the man doing the fitting had wondered why he was fitting such a young Companion, he hadn't said a thing about it, something Vanyel found he was extremely grateful for.

The young stallion all but pranced in place, somehow keeping pace with Herald Talia, as they wove their way through the city streets. _He was going to Choose._ He felt a wave of calm wash over him as Talia patted his shoulder.

He sent the empathic Herald a wave of appreciation and settled himself as well as he could. He wanted to run, and keep on running until he had his Herald in his saddle, just as any other Companion did when they felt the urge to Choose. Yet he knew the best way to bring his Herald home to Valdemar was to wait for Rolan and the Herald mages to open a gate for him and Jissa. He could run himself into the ground on his own and get nowhere. Still, it was probably the hardest thing he'd ever done.

~~~***~~~

It had been four days since his temper tantrum in the Grove and he was waiting patiently for Rolan's summons. At the moment he had his shoulder pressed up against Sayvil's, his head down, as he listened to the woman who in a past life he'd called aunt, even though she'd been more mother than anything else. It was fitting that in this life she was his mother. She was offering him small words of comfort and encouragement as he waited, and gently reminding him that while what they were about to do might startle his Chosen, it shouldn't hurt him. Unless the boy fought, the worst it would do was give him a headache. A headache, right— he could handle that.

He cocked his ears forward reflexively when Rolan called, despite knowing very well the voice was only in his mind. He sent his mother a brief and wordless thank you before setting off across the field to the Grove and Rolan, his tail flagged with pride.

He had a bit of an advantage over Jissa here. She knew what they were doing and what to expect because Rolan had explained it. He actually had knowledge of this type of spell from his time as a Herald. Without prompting, he pranced into the concentric circle formed by Heralds and their Companions. Four Herald-mages, including Elespath, made up the inner circle and five Companions made up the exterior, all of them stood quietly at an equal distance around the small triangle in the very center, triangle formed by Jissa, himself and Herald Talia.

Rolan moved back into his position, closing the circle, and slowly, very, very slowly the spell began. Talia gently placed her hand on the edge of his velvety soft nose, doing the same with Jissa. He opened his mind to her, and tugging gently, he led her in the direction of his latent bond to his Chosen. It was strange to feel someone else follow that line to his Chosen; he felt a brief flare of surprise jump down the bond, as Talia touched his Chosen's mind. He felt mild surprise tinged with pride as his Chosen snapped up his shields instinctively – so he was going to have to give his Chosen a headache in taking them down.

Damn!

He felt Talia guide two of the mages down the line to his Chosen, and he did his best to send reassurance and comfort, which only seemed to make the hole-ridden shields tighten. He felt a brief flash of concern flare down the bond and he started in surprise at the feel of a completely alien mind and an odd mirrored feeling as Talia, Jissa and the other two Heralds briefly brushed his mind before he felt the Heralds slip through one of the holes in his Chosen's shields. He felt his Chosen's confusion and fear as he struggled to keep them out. He saw random flashes of the boy's life, as he fought them tooth and nail over their presence in his mind. Finally they drew back, having gathered what they needed from both soon to be trainees.

Vanyel braced himself, locking his legs in shock as they drew back, and pain lanced down his link to his Chosen. He felt it, a gripping pain, and one he recognized well—backlash, a bad case of backlash. It was followed by a strange spinning sensation, and a sharp pain in what, had he still been human, would have been his arm told him that his Chosen had fallen. Fallen, and quite possibly broken his arm! He reared, screaming in rage and pain, a Companion's challenge to any who would dare hurt his Chosen, yet in this case the only person he could trample was himself.

He dropped to all fours head hanging low, and tried to come to terms with what he had done. His Chosen was injured because of his actions.

He sighed and stomped a hoof as Rolan and Jissa sidled up to him pressing against his flanks in wordless comfort. He'd done what he had to do, and in seven days he would be off to find his Chosen, to bring the boy- no, the young man, home to Haven for good.

2


	2. I dont need to be medicated damnit!

Chapter 2: I dont need to be medicated damn it!

Conrart groaned as he rejoined the land of the living. What the _hell _happened? Why was his head pounding in time with his pulse? He felt like he had an entire herd of tap-dancing ponies dancing to an old war-ballad in there! He moved his head slightly, trying vainly to get away from an annoying beam of infernal sunlight that seemed hell bent on shining directly into his eyes, and he froze at the sensation that awakened.

OH! OH GREAT ONE, WHAT THE _**HELL**_ DID HE DO TO HIS ARM???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pain lanced across his arm, and up his neck to dance a demented tango with the ponies tap-dancing inside his skull. He gritted his teeth, choking back the presence of his last meal as it attempted to escape via the same route it had gotten into his stomach in the first place! Tears welled up in his eyes in reaction to the unexpected pain.

Scratch the tap-dancing ponies—his whole body ached as if he'd been run over by an entire platoon of fully outfitted heavy cavalry!

Oh, by the Great One, What the hell did he do to himself? And, why, why did he ache so? Then it hit him— he'd gone out for an early morning ride, fully intent on snatching up a little bit of alone time while his beloved Godson and King was trapped at his lessons by his Royal Advisor, Lord Günter Von Christ! He'd intended to be back well before the time Yuri usually managed to sneak away from Günter, and had ridden out into the forests surrounding the capital. The last thing he remembered was an Alien presence in his mind, trying to find something! He'd fought it of course, and the next thing he'd known the world was spinning, and Valiant had jumped … something –

- A Log, Valiant had jumped a log!

And suddenly he was airborne!

He remembered nothing else!

He must have fallen.

How embarrassing!

He blinked and finally managed to wiggle his way up into a seated position. His left arm was bound in bandages and bound against his chest, completely immobilized. He knew from the feel of the bandaging that he'd broken his forearm. He sighed and shifted around trying to find the position that caused him the least pain. He sat there for a moment, his back ramrod straight, just concentrating on breathing. By the Great One, but it hurt to breathe!

His eyes flicked to the right at sound of his outer door opening, just as the soft cooing of a pigeon from the end of his bed, snagged his attention. He glanced over at the small creature, listening to the soft Cries of _: Conrar, Conrar, Message for Conrar.: _He'd realized a long time ago that barring Yozak he was the only one who could hear the small birds speak. One would think that after twenty some odd years they would have figured out how to pronounce his name. A small roll of paper was tied expertly to the bird's foot and Conrart winched at the brief memory of Yozak's mind touching his own during his struggle with the _thing_ rifling through his mind.

He'd completely forgotten.

Was Yozak okay?

Had he been injured in what could only have been an attack?

The pigeon at least, was proof that the man wasn't dead, and was likely okay. But still . . .

Gingerly he raised his right arm for the pigeon, while closing his eyes and concentrating on Yozak. His friend was at the very edge of his range, and gave off the general feel of alert attentiveness. Conrart had come to associate with his friend when the man was on a particularly amusing assignment. Which in turn, meant, the large man had probably squeezed himself into a dress and was currently gleaning information from his place atop some drunken lordling's lap.

He felt a stab of … annoyance at the very thought!

He didn't have time for further contemplation of that particular subject, as Gisela chose that particular moment to sit down on the edge of his bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she gently took hold of his chin and looked into his eyes. He blinked at her, she had a firm hold on his lower jaw, and he wasn't in the mood to fight her grip to speak, so he waited quietly, wishing he could talk to her the same way he often did with Yozak, without words. Just a flow of mingled thoughts, feelings and emotions, that somehow got far more across than words ever could! It was frustrating; with her and everybody else he had to use his words. And he often found them inadequate.

For the longest time, he'd never really needed words with Yozak, even more so when Yozak hit puberty. Conrart had always known what Yozak's feelings were, as if they been his own. Then he'd hit puberty himself around seven years later – and he'd found that Shinou had seen fit to give him glimpses of things happening elsewhere. The Great One even seemed to want them to keep on terrorizing the court, for he'd started to give Conrart insight of things to come, never much, just enough to keep himself and Yozak out of trouble.

The strange connection between them had only increased with age, until finally they could hold an entire conversation in the undertones of a single flip of a wrist, or clash of their blades. They'd ridden to war together and again Shinou had seen fit to protect them! Yozak had discovered that they could get a message to anyone by bird, provided that he was the one who sent the bird. He had to keep a clear picture of the person in his mind, but his messages always found their mark.

Conrart had discovered that the soft buzzing of white noise he'd been hearing since puberty was beginning to shift and consolidate into actual words and voices. Voices he knew, and voices he didn't and shortly afterward, Yozak had confessed that he actually talked to his messenger birds. What had truly scared his red headed friend, however, was that sometimes the doves spoke back! Conrart had reciprocated, by telling his friend a secret of his own… he could hear the men in the camp even when they were not speaking.

They'd sworn each other to silence that day, both terrified of the possible repercussions of their gifts. For one thing they were both male, so there was little chance of there ever being a place for them in Shinou's temple. For another, they were only half-demons, and people were more likely to believe them crazy then gifted. For the most part they'd honored their pact to each other, keeping their silence. In some ways it was scary—they'd left for war fully able to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

Yet by the last battle they'd fought at Luttenberg, they'd become so tightly meshed together that at times it was hard to tell!

But far worse than anything the war had thrown at them Conrart had found himself breaking his sworn word to his best friend for the first time in his life! When Yozak had half carried him home from the field, he'd been too sick to watch his mouth around the healers, and too confused to ignore the tangle of foreign voices vying for his attention in his mind. Scared and confused, he'd begged Gisela to make the voices stop! He'd seen the horrified expression in Yozak's eyes as he'd ranted about the voices. And he'd heard the scared and concerned words Gisela hadn't uttered aloud.

He'd also _LEARNED, _the hard way, that the medicine she'd given him to make the voices stop, hadn't made them stop or even helped at all – if anything it simply made them worse. He still heard the voices, still saw things he could not see with his eyes, still heard Yozak, and still heard the pigeon that had taken to following Yozak around. The only difference had been that he suddenly didn't have the concentration or even the interest required to ignore them!

He'd been living completely apathetic to the world around him and without any purpose or direction. He had stayed in that state until Ulrike had sent for him one day. She informed him that Shinou had seen fit to send him to Earth to deliver the soul of the next demon king to his soon to be parents, which was also the soul of a woman who had once been a good friend of his. About a month and a half after meeting Yuri's father, he'd run out of his medication, and almost overnight the apathetic Conrart, whom the next king's father had so despised, vanished beneath a wave of pain, and the deep, traumatizing emptiness in his soul that he hadn't felt since puberty.

An all consuming emptiness where Yozak should have been!

He'd awoken then screaming in suppressed pain, scared, confused, and so terrifyingly empty. He'd screamed so loudly clutching at his ears, despite knowing full well it wouldn't block out the voices. So many more to deal with and organize then he'd ever had to worry about before, and with each one came images, flashes of things past, present, and far too many others to decipher; far too many possible outcomes!

His screams had brought Jose.

He'd been terrified of the man in that moment. He was a healer of the Earth's demon tribe, and it was a small slip up with a healer that had gotten Conrart into that mess in the first place! But he was too confused, and he couldn't stop some of the things that had slipped from his mouth. To his immense surprise the man hadn't medicated him. He'd taught him how to meditate instead… and he'd soon regained his ability to mostly ignore the voices.

When he'd come home to Shin Makoku sometime later, he'd simply let Gisela believe that the stress of the war and the loss of so many good friends had temporarily addled his wits. He also let her think the medication she'd given him had made the voices go away.

He'd been nearly limp with relief upon reentering his world the second he'd arrived, dripping wet from the palace fountain. He'd felt that terrible emptiness _VANISH_ as Yozak snapped back into his being. They'd meshed easily, as if they'd never been parted, flowing into each other like the merging of two streams until there was very little that separated them from each other.

He'd been so thankful to have that intimacy back; he'd missed being so close to someone who didn't need words of greeting or inquiry. It was times like this when he wished he shared just a fraction of that closeness with others.

It would have made his life so much easier.

His head was pounding!

Although honestly he could have done without Yozak's annoying pigeon friend right about now.

"I'm fine, just a bit achy." He said simply as soon as she was done examining his eyes and had let go of his jaw. "What happened by the way? Last thing I remember is the ground rushing up to meet me! How long have I been out?" he bit back the urge to ask if they'd figured out what had attacked him.

"I'm not surprised you're in pain actually."Gisela replied calmly. "Your horse came back without you three and a half days ago. It took us several hours to find you, and you broke both your left forearm and your clavicle, when you fell. So you'll be out of work for some time. I did a bit of healing on the bones for you, just enough to set them, but as you don't have any magic of your own, that is all I can do for you Conrart." She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "Now why don't you tell me what happened? What stupid stunt were you attempting to injure yourself so gravely, falling from a horse? There are better things you could be doing then trick riding, you know, and most of them a lot less dangerous."

Conrart winched, realizing that she thought he'd been injured doing something juvenile.

He needed to tell her about the thing that had attacked him, rifled through his mind, and taking Shinou only knows what from him! The last things he remembered it dragging up to the surface was his knowledge of the castle's layout. They needed to protect the king—what if this was some sort of attack?

Who was he kidding?

Someone had deliberately taken the knowledge of how to navigate in the castle from his mind, reading him as easily as one read an open book. What else could they want with it but to cause the king harm? He was duty bound to the King, to Yuri; he had to tell Gisela everything. But at the same time he knew she wouldn't believe him!

Hell she'd likely think he'd hit his head when he fell!

He needed to tell her, wanted to tell her.

But at the same time, the very idea terrified him!

The Chances that she'd believe him were slim to none and _**worse**_, she'd likely _**Medicate **_him again!!!

But he needed to tell, Yuri's life could be at stake! He closed his eyes and let his ethereal body bask in the warmth that was his link to Yozak, before taking a breath and turning to Gisela with a sharp look. "Get Gwendal," he said simply. "I'm only going to be able to say this once." _Because, you are most likely going to drug me into a stupor again, for what I have to say; _he thought morbidly before adding, _"And_ he needs to know what happened so he can protect his Highness."

He was shaking, and quietly bidding goodbye to everything when Gwendal came into the room. Probably a good thing too since it gave him something to do rather than allow his mind to run in rabid little circles.

He did his level best to square his shoulders and face his elder brother with dignity. His eyes flicked briefly to the smaller, slighter figure, of Gisela standing just beyond his brother's shoulder; and he swallowed. Again he reached for Yozak, drawing comfort from the mere presence of his best friend in his mind. After Gisela was finished medicating him, he wouldn't care anymore about anything and he knew it.

It scared the hell out of him.

_Then don't tell them. _A small part of him cried, begging him to see reason before he gave up his life.

_I swore my life, for Yuri's safety, _he reminded himself mildly. _This is simply how I give it._

Raising his chin in what he knew was a last desperate act of defiance, he met Gwendal's eyes. "Enhance the Guard around the Palace, and make sure Yuri is not left unprotected. If he complains tell him it was done at my request!"

Gwendal's eyes narrowed slightly, at the badly veiled order. "Why?" he asked calmly.

"Gwendal, please, Please, just listen to me! I didn't just fall! I was attacked! I don't know what the hell it was. I didn't see it but, Gwendal, the damned thing managed to extract a lot of information from me, before I came unhorsed!"

He would have added more but Gwendal cut him off with a sharp question. "How could it have extracted a lot of information from you in so short a time frame, Conrart? Particularly, if you never even saw it?"

Conrart blinked, and looked at his brother, trying his best to ignore Gisela's calculating stare. He gulped, _here it goes. _"It attacked my mind, not my body." At Gwendal's startled look he pressed on. "Whatever it was it went through my memories and I don't know, took isn't the right word. I guess it sort of copied them."

"Conrart," Gwendal began carefully, his voice alarmingly gentle. "I think you must have hit your head, you're not making any sense."

Conrart was about to retort, when a small hand alighted on his right shoulder, he jumped and turned his attention to Gisela. "Conrart," she asked slowly, as if she were talking to a very small child. "How long have the Voices been back?"

"What?" he squeaked, at the same time as Gwendal demanded to know "what voices" she was talking about!

Again he was cut off by Gisela before he even had a chance to speak. "Conrart started hearing voices, sometime during the Battle of Luttenberg. I thought it was simply a case of post traumatic stress, but know I see I was wrong. I'm sorry to have wasted your time Lord Von Voltaire, I had no idea the Voices had come back."

Conrart pinched the bridge of his nose, as Gwendal turned his attention to Gisela. "What can be done for him?" he asked simply.

He cursed colorfully in an odd mixture of English, Japanese and the Demon Tongue, ignoring the pigeon babbling in the back of his mind. "Gwendal," he said sharply. "It took information on how to navigate within the palace, the capital city, and the surrounding lands! Please, _you have _to believe me! Yuri could be in danger!"

But Gwendal simply talked over him. "What could be causing such powerful delusions?" he asked, directing his question to Gisela as if Conrart wasn't even in the room.

"I'm not sure; honestly, I gave him something for the delusions last time. I'll make it for him again; if that works, we'll have to keep him on them this time I'm afraid. It will take until tomorrow to prepare though, since I need to collect a few herbs that have to be mixed fresh. I'll give him a mild sedative and something for the pain tonight. If that particular medication doesn't work, I can experiment with different herb mixtures. Sadly, we'll have to keep him off duty until we can figure out what's triggering these episodes. I'll work on it until I can make him a medication that completely stops these delusions and has the least possible side effects."

"Gwendal, please." He whimpered as panic gripped his soul. "I'm not going crazy! You have to believe me!"

Gwendal glanced over at him finally, a small smile gracing his lips that only served to scare the hell out of him. "I know you're not," he said softly, in that same soft tone Gisela was currently using with him, and settled down on the bed. He gripped Conrart's shoulder softly and he was nearly reduced to tears at his elder brother's next words. "But you are very ill—we'll get you through this, I swear it."

Gwendal squeezed his shoulder and left the room with Gisela behind him. "By the Great One, _**I DON'T NEED TO BE MEDICATED! **_"He called after their retreating backs. "Shinou please let someone believe me! Please." The last word however came out as little more than a resigned whisper. His shoulders shook with the strain of holding back the tears that longed to be released. He wouldn't cry! He had to be strong, he had to protect Yuri! Things were so much simpler before.

How could he protect Yuri if he couldn't protect himself?

The damnable pigeon chose that moment to annoy him further. It fluttered down and landed heavily on his bent knee, _: Reply,: _it cheeped shrilly _: Reply, Reply, Reply!: _it continued to repeat, now adding a sharp peck to his leg with each repetition.

~~~***~~~

Wolfram marched down the hall, furious. _How dare he?! _He wondered sharply. _How dare he dismiss me from his presence, as if I was some common servant!!!! I am not that Half-breed Brother of mine, to be sent away! I'm his fiancé damn it! And he just dismissed me from his office. He probably just wants to be alone with that trumped up little peasant hussy! And Günter, how dare Günter side with him? I'm Yuri's fiancé, damn it! Why does everyone keep forgetting that?! _

He rounded the corner sharply, and ran smack into Gwendal, who was deep in conversation with Gisela. Gwendal's hand shot out and snagged his shoulder, preventing him from getting better acquainted with the floor! Glaring up at his elder brother, he snapped. "What is so important you can't watch where you're going?!"

Gwendal looked at him, mild annoyance in his deep blue eyes. "Conrart is very ill; I was just discussing his treatment with Gisela. We're worried that leaving him alone for too long might be hazardous to his health. Since you don't seem to be doing anything, go keep him company!"

Wolfram felt his jaw drop _Conrart was ill, seriously ill? _He stepped firmly on top of his bubbling concern and retorted sharply. "Why do I have to babysit the Half-breed?"

Gwendal's only response was a glare.

"All right, All right, I'm going!"


	3. of pigeons princes and dresses oh my

Chapter 3. Of Pigeons, Princes, and dresses oh my.

Vanyel reared, the bells on his tack ringing musically, as the gate closed behind him. He settled again on all four hooves and concentrated on his Chosen. Beside him Jissa did the same before bidding him a brief goodbye and taking off at a brisk trot. He concentrated on trying to find the young man, and felt a wash of worry, concern, and something a kin to fear.

He shook his head, and trotted off through the forest in the direction of his Chosen.

~~~***~~~

Jissa sighed as she shied away from yet another questing hand that had attempted to take hold of her bridle and reins. She had to keep reminding herself she wasn't in Valdemar. It was beyond frustrating, dancing around the hands of people trying to catch the "white horse". She evaded the hands nimbly. The number of people grabbing for her had lessened in the past few hours, but then not many were out now because it was so early in the morning. She wandered the small city, lightly weaving her way through the streets. She'd been following the winding trail of her Chosen for several hours now. She'd tracked the young man to a mansion hours before, but found herself waiting for him to leave the fancy party. She'd wondered for a time if her Chosen was perhaps noble. But about an hour and a half ago she'd realized her Chosen was no longer at the party. She followed his trail then, confused as the man lead her through the higher district and into the sometimes ankle deep filth of what was undeniably a slum. They'd spent only a few moments there before her Chosen took yet another detour and they'd wound up back in the district that belonged to the upper class, just not nearly as wealthy an area as the one they'd started off in.

She was keeping tabs on the man only because of the way her soul called to his, otherwise she would have lost him many times now. Hell, she hadn't even seen the man leave the damned party, and she wasn't sure how he'd evaded her notice this long!

She rounded a corner and found herself looking up at the doors to a small but well kept inn's stable. The place smelled of clean straw and horse. Her Chosen was just inside, and she briefly wondered why the young man had bothered with the hour and a half trek through the entire city. Oh well, she'd ask him after she'd Chosen him. She arched her neck, painfully aware of the muck clinging to her hooves, and calmly walked into the stable.

The first thing she saw was a woman in a Gods awful, baby-blue, ruffled evening gown. The woman's long red hair fell neatly about her shoulders as she hastily scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and deftly rolled the note up. Then, reaching into her, tight, corset the woman removed something that glittered and slipped it into the rolled up paper. She tucked both paper and object into a small pouch at her neck.

Jissa shook her head confused. Her Chosen was male – yet the bond told her that this woman was her Chosen. Confused, she tugged slightly at her shields, bringing them up all the way, and found herself looking at her Chosen in a dress. His hair was messily chopped to his shoulders, and could have belonged to either a man or a woman. She was briefly amused; the young man used mind-magic to make others think he was a woman.

Interesting.

_: Why are you wearing that Gaudy dress? : _She asked finally.

The young man spun around, a dagger appearing in his hand as though he'd conjured it. The man's blue eyes landed on her briefly before scanning the rest of the stable at large. He slipped the weapon back into his corset, where it came from.

He regarded her with intelligent, calculating eyes. Oddly, she felt like she was being measured and weighed. It annoyed her. He cocked his head to the side.

"I'll have you know, this is in style right now." He said at last, crossing his arms over his chest.

She blinked in surprise; she'd half expected him to panic and attempt to run away. After all in this world they had no Companions. She didn't even know if they had Mindspeech, or had acknowledged that it even existed. But he seemed to be taking the 'talking horse' well.

"You aren't a horse, I can feel that much," he said simply, and then added, "Besides, no horse would have made a comment about the dress. They don't completely understand the concept of cross-dressing. So my lady, care to tell me what you are and why you've been following me for the past hour and a half?"

She snorted. Well, that explained the long trek through the city. She lowered her head and looked him in the eyes. He was tall, but she was taller, not by much, but taller none the less. She was briefly amused. Animal mind speech was one of his gifts. It definitely explained a lot.

_: I am Jissa, and I choose you, Yozak Gurrier. Out of all the people in this world, and my own, I choose you.: _ Then she let the love she felt for him wrap him in a soft blanket of warmth. She showed him images of her kind and of the Heralds. She showed him the web that existed between Heralds, with the Companions serving as nodes. She could feel his acceptance and his alarm. He was in the military, an undercover operative, which explained the dress! He'd been using his gifts to make his disguises believable for some time now, not even realizing what he was doing. And said gifts had yet to fully develop!

She could sense his unease and unhappiness at the thought of leaving his friend Conrart behind. But he was willing to come with her. She got the sense that he'd have asked to bring Conrart along, had the man not been the king's personal guard. This surprised her, the boy looked no older than 19.

The man swallowed and she sensed his sadness, and yet she could still feel his joy at the bond. "I have to report." He said calmly. "I can't just not return; the information I gathered is important. Even if it wasn't, I need to hand in my resignation. And I couldn't leave without at least checking on Conrart."

She stomped one hoof, wanting nothing more than to carry the man off to the sight the Gate would be opening at. Yet she knew that this Conrart was very important to her Chosen and the mere thought of leaving him behind was a dagger in her Chosen's side. She'd have happily carried him off before he handed in his resignation, but she simply could not deny him the chance to say goodbye to this all important friend.

~~~***~~~

Gwendal sighed as he looked down at his little brother; he was deeply worried. At least Conrart slept soundly— he'd been drugged into that slumber a few hours before. The brunette had still insisted that the attack was going to happen, and that he had not in fact lost his mind. He had refused to take the medication Gisela had given him, despite the fact that they assured him on multiple occasions that they were nothing more than the standard pain medication and a mild sedative. They'd finally resorted to slipping the drugs into a cup of tea the maids had brought up, without him noticing. The problem was that trick would likely never work again. Conrart was far too crafty to fall for the same trick twice. In addition to that, he'd gotten almost paranoid around the time of his 85th birthday.

Gwendal reached out and tugged the covers up to his little brother's chin. How could this have happened? How could his baby brother be losing his mind? He was only 135 for crying out loud! Hardly older than 19 as humans recon age and he wasn't even done growing. Closer to twenty now, but still –

Gisela had said it could very well be his blood. The human blood in him had simply gotten too old to function and was slowly killing him. The very thought frightened him! He shouldn't be watching as his little brother slowly lost his mind! And the very idea of watching him slowly fade away and die was even more horrible!

She'd also mentioned that the fall from his mount could have very well addled Conrart's mind, which wasn't a very appealing alternative explanation, anyway. In either scenario, there was very little to be done for his brother. All they could do was give him medication and hope he didn't digress further.

If Conrart was unwilling to take his medication like a man then Gwendal was more than willing to hold him down long enough for Gisela to medicate him!

His decision made, he left the room closing the door softly behind him.

~~~***~~~

Yozak shifted in his Companion's saddle, resolutely ignoring the fact that he was hungry and not quite sure how to bring up the subject of stopping long enough for him to forage some nearby berries. He glanced over at his normal mount, the gelding kept pace with Jissa with a relative ease, even though he got the impression she could move at a much faster pace if she so chose. It was morning now, a few hours till noon, and they were making good time. Jissa had tried to get him to leave his horse or send the beast home with someone else, but truth was part of him wanted to take Daikichi with him to this new world. The horse had been a gift from Conrart some years ago. His name apparently meant excellent luck in Japanese.

He reached over and patted the horse's neck with a gentle hand. He truly loved that horse, and not just because he was a gift from Conrart. His friend had seen to it that the horse was exquisitely trained. He was without a doubt the best horse he'd ever had. He would be sorry to lose him, but what need had he for a riding mount now? Jissa would be with him always, and he knew he would never be alone again. Yet the thought of leaving Daikichi behind was nearly as unpleasant as the thought of leaving Conrart behind!

He sighed, and listened to his stomach grumble… honestly he was going soft! He'd gone weeks without proper food before Conrart and his late father had found him, and now he misses two meals and his stomach rebels! It was damned embarrassing! What would Jissa think?!

_: I think you're making a fuss over nothing, Chosen. Hunger is a completely natural bodily function, despite your childhood and chosen lifestyle. There are rations in the saddlebag to your left, in a waterproof blue bag. From what I've gathered, your friend would likely tell you the same if he here, would he not? : _Jissa piped up unexpectedly.

Yozak jumped, startled by her response to his unvoiced question. Grinning sheepishly, he twisted round in the saddle and routed through the saddlebag she'd indicated. It was an odd feeling not to have to worry about directing his mount. He found the previously mentioned waterproof blue bag and discovered several ration bars. He'd never seen anything quite like them!

The bars they got in the military were always hard as a rock or brittle. These were softer, and it looked like there was dried fruit of some kind included in the bar.

He took a bite and nearly fell over as the delicious taste of honey and fruit filled his mouth. These were without a doubt the best rations he'd ever had. He told Jissa so, even as he pulled off a small hunk of the bar and fed it to Daikichi. He offered some of it to Jissa but she said she wasn't hungry. Jissa laughed merrily as they made their way down the road. He learned a lot about his Companion during that ride. She was the eldest of her mother's two foals. Her Younger brother Vanyel was here as well, searching for his own Chosen, despite the fact that he was still a colt.

Yozak couldn't help but laugh at the images she sent him of her brother trying desperately to find tack that would fit him. The image of the normally composed little colt, bouncing around the Grove-born stallion like the child he was, his voice clear and his thoughts perfectly ordered reminded him of a younger Conrart. Conrart, who always acted as if he was 13 going on 200, rather than the small child he really was and still acted the same way!

Speaking of Conrart, the bond he had with his best-friend chose that moment to flare into life. He smiled, and reached for his friend. Conrart was out of his range as far as speech went, so he simply sent him a wordless feeling, the equivalent of a slightly sarcastic welcome to this day. What he got in return nearly startled him out of his saddle! Conrart was annoyed, and very much afraid. He was distinctly uncomfortable with something, and Yozak got the impression that whatever had his friend worried was not something Conrart could handle on his own. Not life threatening, but -

_:Jissa? : _He asked, unsure of how to voice his request. They'd been moving at an easy trot so far, but now he suddenly wanted to make haste.

Jissa launched herself forward into a gallop, pulling Daikichi into a full gallop as well. He got the impression that she was actually hampered by his horse's presence, though he couldn't see how that was possible. Daikichi was a very fleet horse, and very intelligent.

Conrart had gotten him from one of the best lines in the Demon Kingdom, for a small fortune. Yozak remembered his own brief bout with jealousy; even if he saved for years he never would have had the money to buy a horse like Daikichi! Conrart hadn't given him a single clue about what he was up to until the gelding was fully trained. Yozak remembered walking into the stables early one morning after reporting to Gwendal, intending to go and see his own horse, Cobalt, who was getting too old to ride.

It was odd—he was in the military, yet he didn't get some of the same perks anyone else would have, like having horses provided for him, simply because in his line of work he could have no obvious ties to a specific unit. Gwendal had informed him that he was to find himself a suitable mount and submit the bill to him afterwards. He'd never had the chance to do so however. Then Conrart had been waiting for him, holding the reins of both his own Valiant and Daikichi.

Conrart had wanted to make sure he had a good mount, and one that wouldn't raise too much suspicion. Cobalt was a war horse, and Daikichi on the other hand was smaller, and built for speed rather than strength.

He shifted his weight, so that he was less of a hindrance to Jissa and settled himself for a long ride, keeping tabs on his bond to Conrart the whole time.

~~~***~~~

Conrart groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose in a flawless imitation of his elder brother. He was a patient man, he really was, and he loved his younger brother, but if he had to listen to the little brat whine any longer he was going to scream! Honestly, was Wolfram really _that _spoilt?

He suppressed the urge to snort. He was trying his level best to ignore the mindless chattering of the pigeon perched on his headboard; lest he give in to the urge to feed the bird to Yozak in the form of a thick stew immediately following his friend's arrival home. Like Wolfram, the pigeon had yet to shut up about its chosen topic. If only it were as easy to distract Wolfram with shiny objects!

Wolfram's current topic of annoyance was, as expected, King Yuri! He'd started in on the topic of just how unfair it was that their 'wimp of a king' had simply dismissed him from his presence. He was absolutely convinced that everyone had forgotten the fact that he was Yuri's fiancé, and it completely frustrated Conrart how oblivious Wolfram was to the fact that none of them could have forgotten had they wanted to with all the times he screamed it across the courtyard!

He'd tried to sooth his brother's ruffled feathers, only to be subjected to an hour long rant on how unfair it was that they had him, the King's fiancé, babysitting a 'worthless and insane' half-breed. After that, Conrart had decided to ignore his little brother, lest he give Gisela another reason to question his sanity by strangling his little brother.

Honestly, when had the sweet little boy he'd known turned into this brat?

He'd come to the conclusion several hours ago that what Wolfram really needed was the application of a hairbrush to his backside. Repeated as needed, until he grew the hell up!

He was about to strangle his little brother! He'd tried sending him away, but Wolfram refused to be budged! The boy really wasn't good for his self image! He'd been called worthless more times in the last hour than he had in the last 10 years! And to make matters worse, the damnable pigeon had yet to shut up, even though it had at least stopped repeating the word 'reply' two hours ago, when the sun coming in through his window had caught the little glass and gold beads in the bowl on his vanity table (which was a rather amusing gift from his lady mother). Now it was repeating something entirely different.

_: Shiny, shiny, Shiny, shiny . : _The damned thing repeated, bobbing its head up and down, and for lack of a better term scuttling back and forth along the length of the headboard. Between Wolfram and the damned bird, he was getting a monumental headache!

"Wolfram?" he asked, cutting his little brother off mid rant. "Would you do me the favor of throwing that bowl of beads out the window?"

The look his brother gave him was absolutely priceless! "And why would I want to do that, Weller?" he asked, somehow managing to smother his surname in disgust.

Conrart sighed, trying to come up with a reason that didn't make him sound completely insane! He suppressed the need to simply snap "Because I said so" at the little hooligan, and settled on simply saying "Please."

Wolfram sighed, and complaining the entire time about how difficult his life was, he grabbed the bowl and tossed the beads out the window!

It had the desired effect! The pigeon shot out the window after them with a purely mental cry of :_ Shinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnny! : _

"Now, could you close the windows?" he asked just as the bird's tail feathers cleared the window.

Wolfram simply gaped at him.

"Please," he added, "before the bird comes back."

Wolfram grumbled, but he closed the windows, griping about his problems, and the odd habits and requests of worthless half-breeds the entire time.

Completely annoyed, Conrart did what was probably they stupidest thing he'd ever done in his life—he lowered himself to his little brother's level and retorted, "I hear Voices, and you think YOU have problems?!" just as the door opened to reveal Gisela and Gunter.

He swore colorfully in an odd mixture of English, Japanese, and his own language!

Gisela walked up to him holding out a steaming mug of something green and bubbly, that smelled suspiciously like sulfur!

No way was he drinking that!

The bubbles were yellow for crying out loud!

"If you think I'm drinking that, you have another thing coming!" he said sharply.

Gisela raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him, and gave him the look she reserved for scaring the men into doing what she said, when she said it. However, after growing up with Gwendal, he was damned well immune to that look! He crossed his arms, clamped his teeth shut and turned his face away from her, turning up his nose in a flawless imitation of Wolfram!

"Conrart Laurence Weller! You have two choices," Gisela said sharply in her most commanding tone. "You can drink your medication like a big boy, or I can force feed you these!" she continued, holding up three separate vials of the bubbling green liquid.

He met her glare with one of his own. "I am not drinking that! I am not crazy! And I would have to be utterly insane to drink something that looked and smelled like that!"

Gisela glared at him before setting the steaming mug of goo down on the bedside table. She scrambled onto the bed and before he quite knew what was happening she had him deftly pinned down. He muttered something completely unbecoming of his rank and upbringing, before swiftly throwing her off with the ease of excessive military training.

She came at him again and again. He easily dislodged her, and annoyed, he climbed out of bed to face her on his feet rather than on his backside! They continued like this for some time before someone tackled him from behind and bore him to the floor.

He found himself face down on the floor. His arms were pinned to his sides, there was a heavy weight settled on the small of his back, and another set of hands grabbed his legs and pulled them straight, stealing his leverage! Even as they maneuvered him over onto his back he was snared in the traumatizing memories of fifty years before! Gisela's hands, which were prying open his jaws, combined with Gunter's weight across his hips and Wolfram pinning down his legs all combined to throw him backwards into a living nightmare!

He was helpless!

Helpless against the onslaught of memories! He struggled against them, reliving the events of his 85th birthday!

He was hardly cognitive of the Voice in his mind that screamed it was coming for him, that it would protect him. He was completely oblivious to everything, except for the fact that someone was pinning him down.

He couldn't move!

He was helpless!

Again!

Panic gripped him, even as Gisela poured the first of the three vials into his mouth and pinched his nose, forcing him to swallow. 

Terrified and helpless under the combined weight of the person straddling his waist and the panic gripping his heart, he lashed out by the only means left to him. His strange ability flared to life despite his exhaustion; he'd been able to move things with his mind alone since his 85th birthday. He had no conscious way of controlling it, but it normally served him well just the same.

~~~***~~~

A.N Read and review people… please?


	4. i'm not crazy the voices tell me so!

Chapter 4 : I'm not crazy the voices tell me so.

The air was light despite the soft heat, and he found himself glad of the overhanging branches as he traded a thick carpet of leaves that lined the forest path for a hard packed dirt road that wound through a more traveled section of the woods. The land of his Chosen's birth was beautiful, he decided as he calmly wove his way through the pristine woods. He knew that his Chosen was of noble birth, possibly the son of this territory's lord. He could see that much from their still dormant bond. The boy was young, and strong, older then he was when 'Fandes first chose him; still young though, 19 he'd guess.

Something changed then, the soft feel of worry and annoyance that he'd been feeling from his soon to be Chosen had now morphed into an intense wave of fear and mild anger, which rather abruptly bled into a full panicked terror!

This time he reared in anger, screaming a challenge at anyone who would dare to hurt his Chosen. He launched himself forward into a full Companion's gallop the second his hooves touched the earth again, and they rang out against the ground as he moved onto the hard stone of a nearby road. He ran full out, keeping his pace steady, remembering the last time he'd seen the land fly past in such a manner, and felt this urgent a pull to be somewhere other than where he was.

The last time, he'd been a passenger in his Companion's saddle, feeling Yfandes's hooves flying beneath him, the bond tying them together, making it seem as though her feet were his.

Now he understood.

How she could fly to take Steffin to safety and fly back to fight and die at his side. He had yet to Chose, and yet he knew he would do everything in his power to protect his Chosen, including surrendering his own life to keep the boy he had yet to meet, safe.

He bolted down the road, using his powers to shove people from his path. He was desperate to get to his Chosen, but he was unwilling to arrive with the remains of a small child stuck to his legs. He gathered himself and leapt a donkey cart with ease. The donkey shied and brayed in alarm, while his handlers swore and wrestled with the beast.

Vanyel didn't bother to stop; he kept right on running until he found himself in the capital city of the Great Demon Kingdom. He called upon the memories he'd copied and briskly navigated the packed city streets, still using his gifts to ensure he didn't accidently run anyone over. He was mildly amused by the irony of life; that he the famous Bane of Demons, Vanyel, Herald Demonbane, the Shadowstalker, and hero of Stony Tor, should be destined as a Companion to claim a Herald of his own, who bore the blood of demons.

It didn't matter; he knew that even as the irony of the situation struck him. His Chosen could be Human, Demon, Gryphon, or even a tree frog, and he wouldn't have cared!

He ignored the land around him despite the fact that his curiosity usually would have gotten the better of him had he been moving at a slower speed, devoid of the urgency brought about by his Chosen's mounting fear—he would have had his nose in everything.

He bolted across a drawbridge in a clatter of chiming hooves and bridle bells, shouldering aside and in one case, bowling over a few guards stupid enough to stand in his way. He leapt lightly over a few men in deep green uniforms and found himself standing in the courtyard of a massive palace. He stomped one hoof and concentrated on his Chosen. The boy's fear had risen considerably.

Images flashed across their incomplete bond, a bewildered and confusing jumble. A man with long lavender colored hair was straddling his Chosen and pinning him to the floor. An adolescent boy with bright blond hair pinned his Chosen's legs to the floor by lying fully across them. A woman with hair in healer's green knelt beside them, attempting to pry the young man's mouth open.

The visions of the here and now mixed with another set of memories, and Vanyel realized he was seeing the memories this situation was dragging across the surface of the boy's mind. He forced the memories back—it was obvious his Chosen wasn't coming to him; he'd have to go to his Chosen. The boy was definitely in the palace.

The third floor, western wing.

He reared screaming his challenge, and flung himself at the nearest door. He brought his hooves down against the wood with a ringing crash. The doors held but he was undeterred, even as the soldiers began to descend upon him, confused looks on their faces.

_: UNLESS you wish to find yourselves beneath my hooves You WILL STAND ASIDE!: _he roared at the congregating soldiers. He was in no mood to deal with these men; he had his hooves full with this damned thick wooden door. He shifted slamming his hooves down against the doors again. Trumpeting his rage at the top of his lungs to all who would listen; he slammed his hooves down against the wood again. Where he in Valdemar, there would be others coming to his aid by now.

But he was alone.

He suddenly understood how Y'fandes, felt when he'd barred himself in the temple that night and attempted to take his own life.

He simply had to reach his Chosen!

He reared again, battering the hard wooden door repeatedly with his hooves, but it was no use; he simply didn't have the strength of a full stallion to put behind the blows. He was still just a colt, and he'd never been more aware of the fact. In a different life he would have simply blasted the door in, but he didn't have the power to do so at the moment. Now he felt his Chosen's panic wash over him with the intensity of a tsunami breaking upon the shore. He panicked and spun around, lashing out at the door with his rear hooves.

The door groaned, but held!

He was swept up in his Chosen's fear and he lashed out with everything he had, kicking repeatedly at the door to the shock of the soldiers currently gazing at him. The door held, much to his annoyance, and then a hand reached out, grasping at his reins. He screamed and shook his head in defiance. He leapt into the air, and quick as a flash, lashed out at the door with his rear hooves while lashing out at the idiot who had dared to make a move for his bridle with his front hooves.

The man scrambled back, and Van stood still for a second, defiant until the end. He spun around and rearing, lashed out at the door again. A strange sense of calm washed over him suddenly. He recognized the presence currently soothing him, recognized it from years ago, from a time when he'd been a Herald rather than a Companion.

'Fandes's presence washed over him, and he felt his beloved- and dead- friend and Companion offer him her last gift – her strength. He reared again, and brought his hooves crashing into the wood with their combined strength. The door groaned,

and gave!

Splinters went flying in all directions as the door shattered inward. He flung himself through the hole he'd created and promptly launched himself up the nearest flight of stairs.

~~~***~~~

Yozak blinked at the feelings he was picking up from his comrade. Conrart had just digressed into full on terror. He reached for his friend, again, only to discover that he was still just out of range! He swore and tried his best to calm the man despite their distance.

They were too far away!

He had to be with his best friend, had to help him!

What in the hell could be scaring Conrart so badly?

He felt Jissa brush his mind then.

_: I can go faster, but your horse would never be able to keep up. The decision is yours, Chosen. : _She said calmly.

He looked down at her ears for a moment, and then with a deft tug, he freed Daikichi's reins from the saddle horn. "Home, Boy!" he commanded sharply.

_: Hold on. : _Jissa ordered, and launched herself forward into a ground eating stride that left Daikichi in the dust.

~~~***~~~

There, that door. His Chosen was through that door! He reared, and crashed through the doors with his hooves, picking his way past the debris. He surged forward; crashing through yet another door and into his Chosen's bedchamber.

His Chosen lay on the opposite side of the bed, pinned to the floor by the lavender haired man and the blond haired boy. The green haired woman had managed to force feed him two vials of liquid and was working on the third, as indicated by the two empty vials on the floor. His Chosen struggled, trying vainly to throw them off, fear rolling off of him in volatile waves. A heavy mahogany nightstand rattled and scraped its way across the floor one thumb-length at a time; undeniable evidence of his currently exhausted Chosen's truly formidable Fetching gift.

Screaming a challenge, he leapt over the bed to land easily beside the group. He pivoted on his heels and lashed out at the man currently perched on his Chosen's chest with his rear hooves, connecting with a satisfying crack! The lavender haired man went flying and crashed into a nearby wall, shattering a chair that was unlucky enough to be in the way.

The nightstand stopped moving.

His Chosen did the rest—the boy twisted round and dislodged the woman, spitting out the steaming green concoction she'd been attempting to force feed him. He brought his knee up and dislodged the younger boy. Then, lashing out with one leg, he caught the blond firmly on the jaw with one heel.

Scrambling to his feet, he staggered, and Vanyel surged forward to put himself between his Chosen and his tormentors. The boy's knees buckled and he grabbed hold of Vanyel's mane to steady himself.

"Thank you," he muttered as he clung to Vanyel's mane.

Vanyel flicked an ear at the boy--he expected this young man to think of him as nothing more than a horse, and who thanked a horse? He twitched in what passed as a Companion's shrug; it didn't matter. It was time the boy learned what it meant to have a Companion.

_: You're quite welcome. : _He replied, evenly. He was going to wait until his Chosen could stand on his own to choose him.

The world digressed into chaos then! His Chosen let go of him and backed up with a muttered comment about "now the horse talks" and "maybe I really am going crazy."

He reached for his soon to be Chosen, trying to sooth the boy, as what he'd just witnessed fell into place. His Chosen had taken the mind search Van had done to find him as an attack, told his elder brother, and they'd decided he was going crazy.

_: You're not going crazy, Chosen,: _He replied firmly, forgetting for a moment that he had yet to actuallyChoose the boy.

This made the young man stiffen, and Vanyel saw all traces of expression leave the boy's face as his mind rapidly spiraled into a fit that left the boy chasing his own mental tail simply for the exercise!

_: Chosen?:_

He received no answer at all.

~~~***~~~

Abruptly Yozak found himself in speaking range with Conrart, if he shouted. He clung to Jissa's saddle and tried his best to get hold of his friend's spinning thread of thought. He reached for Conrart and found himself in the path of a twister.

He'd been warning Conrart since his friend turned 85 that if he didn't lighten the hell up and have some fun; he was going to have a complete breakdown. Well, apparently the threatened breakdown had finally hit! Honestly, he didn't know what had made his friend decide that his only worth lay in his military prowess. He however, was completely convinced that it would be the death of his friend if Conrart didn't snap out of it soon!

With that in mind he waded in and reached for him.

He snagged Conrart's mind sharply and gave the man the mental equivalent of a firm shake. When that didn't work, he mentally backhanded his friend. That got his attention.

_: What's wrong? : _He inquired the moment he had his friend's attention.

_: YOU! This is all your fault! You and the Damnable Pigeon! Which won't shut up! It's been reply, reply! Shiny, shiny, shiny! Wolfram won't stop whining and did you know I'm nothing but a worthless half-breed! That boy needs a hairbrush to his backside! I swear it! And now there's a horse, in my room! Gwendal thinks I've lost my mind! Gisela medicated me! AGAIN!!!!! Günter! Sat! On! Me! And the horse is talking to me! I appreciate the fact that it tried to save me! But why is it talking to me?!!!! How did it even get up here? We're on the third floor! We have spiral stair cases! I blame you and the Damnable pigeon, which is back! Why is the pigeon back? How did it get in here I had Wolfram lock the window! Now the horse – which apparently is not a horse – is telling me to calm down! Why does the non-horse sound so calm? Great, the voices in my head are telling me to calm down! Great even the voices think I'm Crazy! I blame you and the damnable pigeon! You're the one who talks to critters, not Me! And why does the horse think it's not a horse? How did the non-horse get in here? I've never even seen this horse! Oh great they're probably going to think I stole the horse! And why not? I'm an untrustworthy Half-breed after all! Wolfram, gets more respect than I do and I'm actually legitimate! But NO pure blood and pedigree are all anyone in this damned nation can think about! Never mind the fact that the King is a Half-demon! And the horse is still telling me to calm down! Okay, Okay, The non-horse is telling me to calm the hell down! I don't want to calm down! I think it's confused….:_

Yozak looked down at Jissa's ears, "I think the Captain's lost it." He said, quietly.

Jissa flicked an ear in his general direction, _: Van?: she called. : Is your Chosen having a nervous breakdown? : _

_: Not now Jissa, I'm trying to deal with my not quite yet Chosen's mental break down. : _A new and distinctly male voice responded.

Jissa sighed,_ : I'll take that as a yes! : She replied calmly. : Chosen, tell your friend to listen to the nice white horse, and look him in the eyes.: _

_: I don't want to look the horse in the eyes! : _Conrart replied absently, completely oblivious to the fact that Yozak hadn't said anything yet, before continuing in a distinctly panicked fashion. _: Gisela medicated me! Günter sat on me! Wolfram looks like he got kicked in the face. Why is he glaring at me? The damnable pigeon is back! It won't shut the hell up! Shut Up ! Damn It! Shut the Fuck Up, Damn You! Go bother Yozak!! Great, now the pigeon is gone!!: _

Yozak blinked as Jissa galloped up the main street through the Capital city, on route to Covenant Castle, as the aforementioned damnable pigeon appeared in his lap. Glancing down at Jissa's ears he muttered "Found it" just as the thing took off with a shrill cry of_: Reply?: _

He could still hear Conrart having his mental breakdown, even as he blew past several very startled guards, and into the courtyard. "Sorry!" he yelled as Jissa shouldered aside a guard who wasn't fast enough to get the hell out of the way in time. She thundered up to one of the Castle's doors, at least where there used to be a door. She gathered herself and leapt over several guards who were currently crouched on the floor picking up the mess!

She pivoted on her heels and shot up the nearest flight of stairs. He hadn't known that horses, even people who just happened to look like horses could navigate a stairwell. They cleared the stairs in a clatter of hooves and chiming bells. His legs burned with the effort of keeping himself in the saddle. Jissa turned and bolted down a hallway, drawing on his memories of the Castle to navigate in the narrow halls. The maids giggled off in the shadows. He gasped as he recognized the man and two boys walking down the hall before they even had the chance to turn around.

"Sorry," he yelled as Jissa launched herself over Lord Von Voltaire, King Yuri, and the Great Sage! She landed lightly a few feet ahead of them before continuing her trek down the hall. Then she barreled into Conrart's rooms, past the debris that littered the floor, neatly avoiding the wooden remnants of what -he assumed - used to be his sitting room and bedroom doors! She leapt lightly over one of Conrart's squashy arm chairs, and skidded to a halt beside the slightly smaller male Companion. He vaulted out of his saddle just in time to catch his friend as the younger man collapsed in mid rant.

For one agonizingly long moment, his mind ran in rabid circles as he tried vainly to come to grips with the blank spot where Conrart should have been. Only the steady feel of Conrart's pulse under his hand kept him from completely freaking out, and having a repeat performance of the Big Shimaron incident a few years prior.

Carefully he lowered his dear friend to the floor, settling Conrart down so that the younger man rested lightly against him. He brushed back Conrart's hair, calmly noting the sweat that clung to his friend's damp hair. His arm was broken and bound to his chest with bandages. Yozak suppressed the urge to swear when Conrart moaned and tucked his nose into his chest. It was odd—not many people realized just how young they still were, hell there were times when he forgot he was older then Conrart. And then there were moments like these when he remembered that he had a good seven years eight and a half months on Conrart. Conrart always had been too serious for his own good!

Then Gisela appeared within his line of sight. Yozak didn't really understand why, but right now, he didn't want Gisela anywhere near Conrart! Something deep within him screamed not to let her even remotely close to them. That small voice also maintained that his friend's limp state was somehow her fault. He wanted nothing more than to protect Conrart from everything. At the same time a new instinct was forming in his mind, coursing down his newly formed bond to Jissa. Trust Jissa! It screamed, and for some odd reason he knew with an infallible certainty that the young stallion belonged with Conrart, just as he belonged with Jissa.

_: Your friend is Chosen of Vanyel. He will be coming with us to Valdemar, Chosen, you'll not be leaving him behind. He belongs to Valdemar now; as do you. :_

He blinked, trying to clear his head. He was Chosen of Jissa, and he would never be simply Yozak again. And turning his head briefly, he realized that if what Jissa had just said was true, and Conrart really was the colt's Chosen, he could safely leave Conrart in Vanyel's care.

He shifted his position, well aware of the fact that Conrart would most likely not thank him for this but he had to get him safely away from anyone who would hurt him – and right now that included his family. He shifted Conrart and readied himself for the difficult task of getting the unconscious man into the saddle.

Then Gisela reached out to touch Conrart, to take him away from him so that she could feed him something. The image Yozak's mind supplied was green and bubbled yellow. He knew, somehow, that the green bubbling goo was responsible for Conrart's current state, and partly responsible for his earlier mental breakdown.

He didn't think—he simply reacted as every primal part of his being branded Gisela _the enemy_, and a threat to what he held dear!

His hand shot out and snagged her dainty, delicate wrist, and before he could stop himself, he'd bent her wrist back until he heard a sickeningly satisfying snap. He barred his teeth, and shifted Conrart closer to his body. "Don't you dare touch him!" he snarled as he released the now useless appendage!

Gisela scrambled back, cradling her broken wrist to her chest, her teeth set against the pain in the abused limb. Just then, Lord Gwendal Von Voltaire, King Yuri Shibuya, and The Grate Sage Ken Murata, entered the room.

Gwendal took in the grandiose mess with a raised eyebrow, but for once Yozak thought the commander of their nation's Military was well and truly speechless!

~~~***~~~

A.N school starts on Monday so no more updates till the weekend. Particularly as I have a huge paper due this week. But since someone actually asked me to update soon I figured I'd post this now. More to come soon. Read and review.


	5. he knows everything

Chapter 5: he knows everything.

"Well, I see the dignitaries from a different world I mentioned have arrived." Murata said calmly, as he took in the chaos that had once been Conrart's neat and orderly rooms.

Gwendal it appeared had finally managed to find his voice again, "What dignitaries? The only people here are our own. And why the hell are there horses in Conrart's rooms?"

Murata simply smiled mysteriously at Gwendal, and picked his way past the debris littering the floor until he stood beside the two Companions. He bowed briefly. "Hello, honored Companions of Valdemar. Welcome to the Great Demon Kingdom. If you don't mind the inquiry, where are your Chosen?"

Jissa turned her head and inspected Murata out of one sky blue eye, even as Yozak raised his hand slightly. "She says to tell you her name is Jissa. And inquires as to how you know what a Companion and their Chosen are. I told her you simply know everything," he said lightly, his voice full of humor.

The look Gwendal gave him said quite plainly, that he thought he'd lost his mind.

Murata on the other hand simply laughed. "I see—well, that answers that question. And judging by the fact that the two of you jumped over us in the hallway a short time ago, I'm going to say this mess is not your doing, my lady, but rather your's, Companion . . ." he paused, waiting for someone to supply a name.

_: I Am Vanyel. : _The second, younger, Companion supplied, broadcasting his thoughts to them all.

Murata would have found the reactions of literally everyone in the room, barring Yozak, quite humorous; if he hadn't been too busy staring at the owner of that surprisingly familiar voice. A voice he hadn't heard since the time he was incarnated as a bard on Valdemar. So this is what had become of Herald Mage Vanyel!

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them! "Vanyel? The Herald Vanyel? As in Chosen of YFandas, Demonsbane, Shadowstalker, the hero of Stony Tor, THAT Vanyel?! The same Vanyel who ordered the very trees to slay in protection of Valdemar, and haunted a forest for years as a border guard?!!! "

Both Companions puffed out their sides in what could only be a sigh. _: It appears that even here your reputation precedes you. : _The mare said lightly to her fellow Companion, her voice pitched to broad- send.

Murata felt his jaw drop—he could count on one hand the number of times a Companion had chosen to speak with others beside their own Chosen, and yet here were two Companions, doing just that.

The young stallion, which he rather abruptly realized was still a colt, laid his ears back before replying tartly. _: So it would appear!: _before turning his attention upon Murata. _: I'm well aware that according to Trainee Yozak, you know everything. However, I say you know too much—tell me son of the demon tribe, how is it that you know me? And how in The Lady's name do you know about the forest?! :_

Murata couldn't help the slight twitch that graced his lips as he looked at Vanyel. "I was once a bard in your world; as to your haunting a forest, I learned that from a young and heartbroken bard a few years before I met my death of old age," he replied before switching over to speak in archaic Valdemaran "I knew you as an arrogant young man, and I was there for your rather convincing mud fight with T'Lindal, I believe his name was?"

_: Bards! : _Vanyel replied mildly. _: So nosy. :_

That startled a laugh out of him. He shifted his weight and clasped his arms behind his back. He was about to inquire after Vanyel's Chosen, despite the suspicion that had been building in his chest since he'd left the temple this morning to deliver Shinou's message to King Yuri. The knowledge that two souls had been born to this world that didn't truly belong here had surprised him at first, simply because of the obvious parallel to Yuri and himself. He suspected that at least one of the two mentioned would be close to Yuri, and when Shinou told him of the coming of Companions to the Demon Kingdom, he initially thought that they would come with a Heraldic delegation. However, he'd seen the folly of that assumption immediately. He'd then drawn the appropriate conclusion—that the two aforementioned Companions were coming to their world to Choose their Heralds.

It appeared he was right.

He'd come to the palace and spoken with the king about the incoming delegates that would pave the way for the Demon Tribe to form an alliance with Valdemar, without any knowledge as to who the two Chosen would be. However, he'd had his suspicions as to whom he was preparing his dear friend and king to see leave for another world. He'd thought it rather poetic in a sad way that this was similar to how Bob and Shinou had asked Jennifer and Shoma Shibuya to raise a son who would eventually leave them for another world. He'd been so sure that one of the newly Chosen would be the princess Greta, who'd only just had her 13th birthday a few scant months ago.

But now he saw the truth.

The fact that Yozak had been Chosen would have been hard enough on Yuri, and for a short time he'd been preparing himself to point out to the young king that at least now he could safely say that Greta would have someone to look out for her in this new world. Then he'd realized that all the commotion was coming from Conrart's rooms and the sight of Yozak mounted on his Companion flying over their heads had confirmed an even worse suspicion.

The young stallion wasn't here for Greta—he was here for Conrart!

Somehow he thought Yuri was going to take _that_ far worse then he would have taken it had Vanyel truly been there for Greta!

"What the hell?" Gwendal finally got out. "Will somebody please tell me what is going on here? Why is Yozak holding Conrart? Why is Gisela's wrist broken and why is Wolfram bruised? And by Shinou, where is Günter?!"

Murata pinched the bridge of his noise in a manner reminiscent of Conrart. "A moment if you would please, Lord Von Voltaire. Allow me to speak with Companions Vanyel and Jissa, and then I will do my best to see to all of your questions." He said simply, before turning his attention back to Vanyel.

"Judging by the mess, and whose rooms we're currently in, I'd say I have a pretty good idea as to your answer already, my lord. However, would you please honor me with the name of your Chosen so that I may see to the political ramifications of your Choice?"

Vanyel snorted, and pawed at the ground briefly with one silver hoof; it chimed musically off the stones. Murata got the impression that he was having difficulty maintaining his dignity, which really didn't surprise him. Vanyel was a colt no older then maybe five. Murata had had problems with his past lives as a small child, so he understood what Vanyel was going through now, being both very young and very old at the same time. Companions finished growing at around seven years of age, and almost never Choose before the age of ten. So he simply waited for the once proud man to collect himself.

_:My Chosen is Conrart Weller. : _he said after a moment.

Murata smiled slightly at the pride and love that washed over him from the young Companion at the mere mention of Conrart's name. Conrart deserved to be happy. The bond of a Companion to his Herald would do much to heal the wounds Conrart was far too good at hiding. He gave Vanyel a slight bow. "As I suspected," He replied simply.

He sighed, wondering briefly just how Yuri was going to handle this new turn of events. How was he going to explain this one to Gwendal? Lord Von Voltaire may have looked tough, but he really was quite soft hearted, especially when it came to his younger brothers. He turned, took in the room at large, and noted Günter struggling to his feet on the other side of Conrart's bed, clutching his chest in a manner that made him suspect the man had broken ribs. Given the hoof shaped markings that marred the man's usually pristine clothing, broken ribs were likely.

Vanyel stomped his hoof, scraping it along the floor, with his ears laid back in clear warning at the sight of the king's advisor. Vanyel's entire posture had changed to one of silent challenge. He now paced forward slowly and deliberately to stand guard over his Chosen, proving that broken ribs were the least of the man's worries.

Briefly Murata wondered just what the flamboyant man had done to acquire the Companion's ire. He sighed and decided to take measures to prevent Günter's untimely demise, which was likely to occur if he kept coming towards the young Companion and his currently unconscious Chosen. "Günter," he said firmly, "stay where you are."

To his credit, Günter froze, and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not going to ask what you did to make a Companion that mad at you, Günter." He said simply, before launching into as simple an explanation as he could manage. "Companions come from Valdemar. Long ago, King Valdemar took his people and fled the reign of a tyrannical king—the land he and his people settled in became known as Valdemar. King Valdemar wanted to ensure that his people would always be well led and well protected, so he prayed to the gods for help. What he got were the first Companions—King Valdemar was Chosen, along with his son and his Herald. Ever since then, a law was passed requiring that all monarchs be Chosen, and from then on the Heralds have helped to preserve the peace in Valdemar. They serve many functions, just a few of these being: judge, jury, temporary military leaders, administrative overseers, information gatherers, and messengers of the monarchy. Their purpose is very important do to the nature of Valdemar and her inhabitance—the main law in governing their people is that 'there is no true way'. In other words, they value diversity, and the differences of their general population. Heralds answer to NO ONE but their own Companion and the Heraldic Circle. The monarchs don't even have the power to make someone a Herald, or take away their status as a Herald—only Companions have that power." He paused to take a breath, right as Yozak started to snicker.

He raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the orange haired spy… well, former spy now, "May I ask what is so funny?" he inquired in mild amusement.

Yozak took a deep breath. "Sorry," he said jovially, "Jissa just commented on the fact that you really do know everything. Apparently, it's creepy." He managed the last bit around another fit of laughter.

Murata rolled his eyes, and went back to his explanation. "Companions are extremely protective of their Chosen Herald. Hence, Günter's broken ribs. They're also at least as intelligent as their Heralds—as you've witnessed they are perfectly capable of communicating with anyone they chose to bespeak, although it is very rare for them to speak with anyone but each other and their Chosen Herald."

Again he was cut off by Yozak's failed attempt to suppress his laughter. He raised an eyebrow in the man's direction.

"Sorry—Jissa says you obviously haven't met their mother. Apparently, Companion Sayvil talks to everyone."

Murata sighed, "Well now we know what became of Herald Savil," He said dryly, remembering the sharp tongued Herald he'd once called friend.

There wasn't really much more he could say on the subject of Heralds and their Companions. The problem now lay in getting the people in the room to draw the right conclusions. He wasn't at all surprised that Gwendal was the first on the uptake. Nor was he surprised by Yuri's clueless expression and Wolfram's blatant disinterest.

"You mean to tell me that Horse-" Gwendal started, only to be cut off by two very annoyed mind-voices.

_: Companions! : _Vanyel and Jissa interjected in perfect unison.

"- Companion, is going to spirit my brother off to yet another world?" Gwendal continued, completely unfazed by the interruption.

Murata didn't even get a chance to answer before Yuri interjected his voice an almost panicked falsetto, which oddly managed to make his comatose Godfather stir in Yozak's arms. Murata got the impression that had Conrart not been drugged into unconsciousness, he would have been on his feet and ready to defend his king.

"He can't go!" Yuri yelled, "I need him! As his king, I deny him leave!"

Yuri really shouldn't have said that! Vanyel laid his ears back at that comment but the real threat came in the form of a blond haired windbag!

"You Wimp!" Wolfram yelled winching slightly as the action tugged at his now swollen jaw. "I'm your fiancé, what the hell do you need that worthless Half-breed for?!"

Murata got the impression that Wolfram would have continued with his normal tirade, if he hadn't been stunned into speechlessness by an outside source.

_: DON'T CALL MY CHOSEN WORTHLESS!!!! : _Vanyel roared, his anger coloring his mind-voice a distinct red, and giving it a sharply bitter flavor.

Wolfram took an unconscious step back from the enraged Companion that was now advancing on him. Vanyel reared and pawed at the air sharply. _: Stay away from him! : _Vanyel continued sharply. _: You've done enough damage. Learn some manners, boy! Better yet, learn to get over your issues and stop taking them out on others! Conrart has done nothing to deserve even a fraction of the maltreatment you regularly lay at his feet! So what if his father was human? Are you really so arrogant and spoiled that you fail to notice the pain you're causing your own brother? : _Vanyel stomped one hoof sharply, before turning his back on Wolfram with a sharp flick of his tail and walking calmly past a very startled Günter to stand protectively over his Chosen once more. He looked down at Conrart then, and continued, his mind-voice full of sorrow. _: No matter what abuse he has to endure beyond these walls, he shouldn't have to expect it from his own family, certainly not in his own chambers. Think on that boy! :_

Wolfram simply stood silently in the corner Vanyel had backed him into, gaping like a fish at the young stallion.

Murata sighed—this was not going well. Although all things considered, he really couldn't be that surprised by Vanyel's response. Hell, he'd often wondered how much longer Conrart would have been able to maintain his composure under Wolfram's near constant verbal abuse. But at least Lord Von Bielefeld had unintentionally given him a launching pad to work off of that would aid him in convincing Yuri to let Conrart go.

"Yuri," he said quietly, to get the startled boy's attention. "Look at your godfather. How much longer do you think he can keep going like this? He's up long before dawn, and asleep well after midnight. I don't spend nearly as much time with him, and even I can see that he's slowly killing himself. He needs to be somewhere where his blood isn't going to mean anything. Besides, just like we don't truly belong on earth, Conrart doesn't truly belong here." He took a breath and ran right over any protests Yuri was attempting to make. "Yuri, were you ever happy on earth? Truly happy? Think about it Yuri—after the initial shock, and the occasional bout of home sickness, weren't you happier here? It's the same for them. They don't belong here, and the Companions— I've never had one so I can't begin to tell you what it's like, but a friend of mine once told me that being Chosen was like _finally _coming home."

He paused, taking in Yuri's startled expression, and for the first time in many years he could see the distinct similarities between Yuri and Shori. He suppressed the urge to groan at the almost mutinous expression spreading across his friend's face. Annoyed, he turned his attention to the only other person who was likely to make an impression on Yuri. Yozak he noticed was still engrossed in caring for his friend, although from the slightly unfocused look in his eyes Murata knew he was talking to his Companion.

"Yozak," he called, getting the man's attention.

Yozak looked up at him, shifting his grip on Conrart, and readjusting his friend so that Conrart rested comfortably against his chest. "Yes, Your Eminence?" he replied after a brief moment's fussing.

Murata's lips twitched, as he began to recognize the signs of a phenomenon occurring between the two that he had previously thought impossible. "Tell me, what was it like when Jissa Chose you?"

Yozak didn't hesitate; he simply answered. "Like finding a piece of my soul I hadn't realized I was missing until that moment. Like coming home . . . I can't explain it. I – I was incomplete before Jissa. I'm no longer just Yozak, I belong to Jissa. We are a part of each other. Whatever I face from now on, we will face together. I," he shook head. "I wish I could explain it better, but I will never be alone again. There will never be loneliness because even if I am alone, I will always have Jissa." He paused again and looked up at Murata before adding. "Does that make sense, and why do you ask?"

Murata, smiled at him. "No reason," he said before turning his attention back to Yuri. "Would you deny Conrart that?" he asked simply.

The look on Yuri's face was worthy of Shori, and Murata got the impression that the boy was not yet ready to part with his beloved godfather, advisor, and friend. "He can't go! What if he gets hurt?! It's not like Earth. On Earth, nobody cares if you're half demon because nobody knows the Demon Tribe exists. Who's to say they won't mistreat him for his demon blood in this other world? He needs to be with his own kind."

Murata sighed, he really didn't want to tell Yuri he was acting like Shori, but by Shinou he would! "Yuri, I think you need to take a step back and take a look at how you're acting, because you're starting to sound like your older brother."

The look on Yuri's face remained distinctly mutinous, despite the thoughtful look in his black eyes. Murata suppressed the urge to groan, wondering just how he was going to make Yuri see that Conrart needed to go.

The answer came in the form of Vanyel; he'd forgotten the Great Herald-Mage had once been an advisor to King Randale.

Vanyel paced forward slowly, and with the utmost care went to his knees beside Yozak and his own Chosen. It was odd, watching something in the body of a horse carefully curling up to someone in the same loving and protective manner as a pet dog. And just as startling to see Conrart instinctively shift closer.

Vanyel turned his head to fix Yuri with one bright blue eye. _: Look at my Chosen, young king. Can you see the pain he's in here? You worry over the reaction of our people to his demon heritage—the only ones who will truly know of it is the Heraldic Circle, and they, let me assure you, could care less about it. Blood and pedigree have no bearing as far as the Heralds are concerned. He is my Chosen, and no one would dare question my Choice. It is the right of a Companion to Choose whomever they see fit. : _He paused, then briefly nuzzling his Chosen. _: He is in pain here, little one. Here, there is no one to teach him. No one to let him know that what he is going through is normal. Your friend told you what you already know— your Godfather is up before dawn, and rarely seeks his bed before midnight. Now I will tell you why. For an untrained, unbound Herald, Conrart is strong and powerful. On its own that is not bad, it will simply make him a powerful Herald in his own right, just as Yozak will be. The problem, little king, is that everything has its costs. _

_You have the gifts of your people, a gift that my Chosen lacks. Yet when you work it, it costs you just as physical labor costs you in energy. Conrart has gifts as well, Youngling, but they are the gifts of my people, and less easily seen by those who do not know what to look for. Have you even noticed Conrart's uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time? Or how he always seems to know when someone means you harm? He needs to learn to use them. As he is now, his gifts are dangerous, and he handles them simply by ignoring them. If he continues like this he will lose his sanity, youngling. It will be a slow and painful process. As things stand I give him 1 to 3 years before he snaps under the pressure of his gifts. Would you sentence him to that, little King? He'd commit suicide before the year is out at best. The worst case scenario would see him drugged senseless and bound to his bed for the rest of his life. Are you willing to see your Godfather in such a state, Youngling? Could you hand that sentence down to a man you claim to care for? Ask yourself that little king, before you deny him leave to go. : _

The look on Yuri's face was absolutely priceless. He took a step forward, and then walked quietly up to Conrart, kneeling down beside his godfather. Reaching out slowly, he set his hand on the man's uninjured shoulder, and closed his eyes. "Good bye Conrad." He murmured. Turning his gaze to look up at the Companion, he swallowed. "You'll take care of him?" he asked quietly.

_: Always,: _Vanyel replied somberly. _: He is mine, little one—I could no more abandon him then my own Yfandas could have abandoned me all those centuries ago. :_

Yuri inclined his head, and rose to his feet. Standing with all the dignity he could manage, he turned his attention to Yozak. "Stay safe, take care of each other, learn what you need to know, and make some friends while you're at it. That's an order, and you can tell Conrad that when he wakes."

He paused and took a couple of breaths before snapping orders to the room at large. "Gwendal, help Günter down to see the medics, then go and write up the appropriate paperwork for Conrad and Yozak. Gisela… Get that wrist looked at! Wolfram, do something about that bruise. Murata… go do something mysterious! Yozak, go pack anything you want to bring with you. Then could you help me pack for Conrart?"

The occupants of the room began to file out, even as Yozak gently settled Conrart down against Vanyel's furry shoulder. He rose gracefully to his feet, and turned his attention to his King. "Let me pack for Conrart, Majesty—not to be rude but I think I have a better idea about what he may or may not want to bring with him, in addition to a better idea of what he may actually need and how to fit it all into a few pairs of saddlebags."

Yuri looked over at him for one long moment, before inclining his head in acceptance of Yozak's logic. "Very well," he said simply before turning on his heel and leaving the room.


	6. 5 saddlebags or less

Chapter 6: 5 saddlebags or less.

Yozak sighed— the thought of his beloved friend Conrart committing suicide, or going crazy, scared the hell out of him. He knew very well that Conrart would have stayed in Shin Makoku, and done it without question or regret on the king's order. The man was obsessed with proving his worth to a country, which by Yozak's opinion at least, didn't deserve him.

The very idea made him sick; he wished he knew what had happened to bring about the complete shift in Conrart's personality. Fifty years had passed, and he still occasionally found himself flabbergasted by some of Conrart's newer tendencies, like the tendency to work himself into exhaustion for one thing. He just didn't know what had happened in the three month intern between when he'd left on assignment and when he'd come back home. Conrart had been an entirely different person from when he'd left. The difference between the 84 year old he'd known and the 85 year old he'd discovered upon his return had been so marked that he suspected something significant was at the heart of the change.

The Conrart who'd smiled, and become talkative when they were alone, had been replaced with an aloof, and reclusive, mistrusting workaholic. Granted over the years Conrart had gradually began to shift back, but the boy he had known was gone, and in his place stood a man who, while aloof was still a very good friend. Still he missed his Conrart, he still caught a rare glimpse of him at times however, lurking behind his friend's eyes, and on very rare occasions, Conrart still let him out to play.

He shook his head to clear away old memories, and glanced over at his comatose friend before beginning to pack Conrart's things. He started by removing several things from Conrart's shelves he knew his friend would want. Conrart's baseball glove and the ridiculous rubber duck he set lightly on the bed before tugging down the few books Conrart actually owned. These consisted of two small, well used, paperback books from his majesty's world, and three hard leather-bound books just slightly longer then his hand, and they joined the duck and glove upon the bed.

He took a step back glancing at Conrart's now bare shelves with a slight shake of his head. In some ways it was truly sad—Conrart had less in the way of personal possessions then he did! With a sigh, he made his way over to Conrart's heavy mahogany nightstand – which was curiously out of place. He pulled out the drawer, and felt around the edge of the nightstand for the small button concealed there, before sticking his hand into the space left by the drawer to find the small latch that held the hidden compartment closed.

With that done, he removed a small 8 to 9 inch long leather box embossed with the Weller Crest from the compartment. He set the box on the bed and turned to go about closing the compartment when he noticed 2 small rectangular objects which had been concealed by the box.

After a brief moment of consideration, he took those out as well before closing the compartment and deftly replacing the drawer.

The two objects turned out to be books. One was an old, but extremely well kept, leather bound book with vellum* pages, with a finely worked silver medallion bearing the Weller family crest set into the cover. It's thin, time worn, no longer quite blue bookmark rested lightly in the exact center of the book. Curiosity overcame him briefly, and he flipped the book open to the marked page. What he found made him smile slightly—he'd seen Wolfram, bragging to Yuri about family lineage books, deftly waving a small leather bound, (but less well maintained) book of parchment under the young king's nose.

This was the Lineage Book of the Weller family, and the page he was looking at bore the name Conrart Laurence Weller accompanied by the date of his birth in neat script. Across from it lay Conrart's father's name and the date of his birth in a hand he didn't recognize. However, the date of his death and the small note written across the bottom half of the page was written in Conrart's neat, slightly slanted script.

The second book he recognized immediately, despite its missing corner and the scorch marks obscuring its title. Bound in dark green velvet – that had faded to pale green-gray with time – and embellished with gold leaf work, it was the book that Conrart's father used to read bedtime stories to them from.

The same book Conrart had used to teach him how to read.

The same book Wolfram had deliberately set on fire twenty-five years ago.

The same book Conrart had burned his hands retrieving.

It had been in Conrart's family since before the founding of The Great Demon Kingdom!

He set the two books down lightly on the bed and went about collecting Conrart's clothing. He grabbed his friend's few articles of non-military clothing, folded them neatly, and set them on the bed. Socks and underwear came next. Then he took out several pairs of the noble's standard issue panties, and after a moment's thought added a few pairs of the strange underwear from Yuri's world that Conrart preferred to sleep in; boxers he believed they were called. He grabbed both sets of Conrart's boots and some night clothing. Glancing around, he deftly plucked Conrart's sword off its rack and placed it on the bed. Then he grabbed Conrart's flute and proceeded to dismantle the silver instrument and pack it into its padded leather case, before setting it on the bed as well. Ducking back into Conrart's now bare wardrobe (except for his uniforms) he plucked Conrart's travel packs off of one of the shelves.

Deftly he rolled up the clothing and stowed it all away in the bags. It didn't take long to pack the things on the bed, and Yozak was mildly disgusted by the fact that barring the uniforms, he could basically fit Conrart's entire life – all 135 years of it – into three small travel packs.

He glanced around, praying that he'd find something he'd missed. Anything he'd forgotten; anything, to at least fill the fourth bag. All he found were bare walls.

He sighed and left the bedroom in favor of the also bare sitting room. That's when he spotted it. Resting in a place of honor above the mantel was Conrart's father's sword. He smiled as he lifted the thing free of its spot, grabbed the little stand it had been resting on with his left hand, and walked back into the bedroom, setting the sword down beside Conrart's. It was only an inch or two longer, and a little wider, than the eloquent blade Conrart carried. He picked up the not quite full third bag and set the little stand inside before closing it again.

Turning on his heel, he walked quietly up to Jissa and hugged her neck. He would soon be going home. It was strange how quickly he'd come to think of any place that held Jissa as his home.

Jissa's ears flicked forward, and she made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. _: Heralds live in the capital city of Haven, but a Herald's home is in his Companion's saddle, Chosen. With time you will see what I mean. You have family again now; every Herald is a part of your new grossly extended family. : _Her mind-voice had a crisp clean feeling to it, like fresh apples on an autumn day.

She paused briefly before continuing_: You worry for your friend; what Vanyel said has scared you. : _She pressed on, not giving him a chance to respond. _: Do not fear for him, Chosen. He is in the best hands possible. Vanyel may physically be young but he is an old soul and has firsthand experience with extremely powerful Gifts. Your friend will be fine. As to the changes in his personality that you have noticed over the years…well, trauma is usually behind such drastic changes. Be that the case, the best thing for your friend may well be that he is Chosen. There are very few who can completely shield out their Companion, not that Heralds really want to. Vanyel knows full well what can happen when a Companion allows his Herald to be ruled by trauma. He'll not let that happen to Conrart. Trust me when I tell you, if there is some trauma underlying the changes you noted, Vanyel will find them, and he will do all that he can for his Chosen. Conrart will be fine—he will learn to control his gifts, and he will be fine. :_

He hugged her neck firmly._ : Thank you, love: _he replied calmly. _: I'm going to go pack my own bags. Will you please stay here and watch after Conrart for me? :_

_: Of course I will—go see to the things you need to do.: _she said simply.

He took a step back and patted her neck fondly before turning and leaving the room. He walked down the hall and down the staircase leading out into the courtyard. He wasn't nobility, nor was he a guest in the palace or even a servant; he was a soldier; as such he lived in the barracks.

He yanked open the heavy doors to the barracks and walked through calmly down the halls, nodding to the occasional soldier who'd noted his return from whatever 'assignment' Conrart had sent him on as a cover for his latest spying mission. He made up answers to various questions quickly and easily, making sure every single answer matched up with both the question and every other answer he'd given so far. He paused in his trek only once to break up a rather loud and unbecoming bout of unauthorized sparing between two junior officers, who really should have known better. He turned them over to LT. Brice to be dealt with, after verbally ripping them several new orifices. Conrart didn't tolerate internal strife among his men, and when he was in residence he enforced his captain's orders with a heavy hand. However, with both Conrart's and his own resignation from their posts, it was likely Brice would take over command of the unit at the very least, and Conrart's place as Yuri's personal guard at best. It was time he hit the water and swam on his own.

At last he made it to his room; one of the perks of being named Conrart's second was that he had his own room. He ducked under his bed and liberated a large wooden box. From this he pulled out his travel packs—they were all plain, unadorned brown leather, baring the little fox symbol on the very edge of the pack. With that done, he stooped and pulled out a longer, cedar wooden box from under the bed also. Opening the lid, he carefully dug through the pile of neatly arranged gowns, dresses, and various costumes until he found his favorite dress, the one Conrart had once referred to as 'the little blue number'. Carefully, he removed it, being sure not to disturb any of the other dresses stored inside. He set it on the bed, closed the box, locked it, and slid it quickly back into its place.

Then he turned and went about packing his things. He packed all of his civilian clothing and the dress, before (as an afterthought) packing up all of the jewelry he actually owned. After twenty-five years as a spy, he had quite the collection of jewelry, some of it cheap imitations, some of it more expensive. His collection of ornamental hair combs he packed next. That done, he packed both pairs of his boots and the small slip on shoes he wore around his room when he was off duty.

He glanced back at his wardrobe, which was empty except for his dress uniform and the two other standard issue uniforms he owned but rarely wore. It was odd seeing his room so… empty—he'd lived here for the last thirty years. He shook his head, and grabbing his now full packs, he left the room, still confused as to why he'd been able to pack up Conrart's entire life into three not quite full saddle bags, when he could hardly fit his life into five bags and still had a trunk full of dresses he was leaving behind.

Closing his door behind him, he began the long trek down the hall in the direction of Brice's tiny office. He'd better have a talk with Conrart's second officer, since Conrart wasn't in any condition to do it himself. Along the way, he paused briefly to remind a few of the men that gambling was prohibited, particularly if they were foolish enough to leave the door open so that their commanding officers could see what they were up to. He then closed the door and left them to it.

Yozak arrived at Brice's door just as the two junior officers were leaving; he nodded politely as the two men saluted to him and knocked briefly on Brice's door before entering. He was still technically the man's commanding officer, until Gwendal had signed the papers dismissing him from his post; as such he didn't have to knock at all. He did so more out of courtesy than anything else. Brice bolted to his feet, his hand raised in a salute the second he laid eyes on his superior.

Yozak sighed. "At ease," he said calmly, setting his bags down on one of the hard-backed, uncomfortable wooden chairs. He leaned casually up against the chair, his arms resting against the back. He briefly considered handling the situation like a military officer, but quickly dismissed the idea as less then fun.

"I've come to offer you my congratulations." He said with a cheerful grin.

Brice looked genuinely startled, not that Yozak had expected otherwise. The man had no way of knowing that he and Conrart were about to be spirited away to a country on a different world by their Companions. The mere thought of Jissa warmed his heart, and he wondered if he would always feel like this before shaking off his retrieve at Brice's startled "Sir?"

Yozak smiled at him briefly before indicating his packed bags. "On your promotion of course, Lieutenant," he replied.

"Sir?" Brice repeated, realization dawning in his hazel eyes before he asked, "Permission to speak freely?"

"Permission granted, Lieutenant." Yozak replied lightly.

Brice sighed. "Have you been reassigned, sir?" He asked after a brief moment's hesitation.

Yozak grinned, "Retiring actually."

The expression on Brice's face was absolutely priceless. "But sir, you're so young! Surely you… I mean-"

The young lieutenant fell silent, a faint blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks, and Yozak couldn't quite help suppress a laugh. "I never took myself for the retiring early type either." He said simply, than added; "Jissa changed all that a short time ago when she pranced into my life and happily turned it upside down." He smiled, amused both by the look on Brice's face as he took that statement entirely the wrong way and by Jissa's sputtering in the back of his mind.

_:Flatterer. : _ She accused mildly.

_: I call 'em as I see 'em, my lovely lady. Now if you'll excuse me, Brice looks like he's about to have a conniption: _he replied, before turning his attention back to the startled Lieutenant just in time to catch his next statement.

"Aren't you courting the Captain?" the man blurted.

Yozak briefly considered reminding him that that inquiry was out of line even if he had been given permission to speak freely. He was still technically his commanding officer! He decided to let that particular comment slide . . . sort of.

"Sadly, no," he replied flippantly before adding for Jissa's ears alone _: Not that I'd even have a chance if I tried. :_

Jissa's reply took him off guard. _: Why do you say that, Chosen?:_

His reply was simple, and by his way of thinking, undeniable. _: Social stature, love. We come from two entirely different classes; he is higher nobility, and I am an orphaned peasant turned soldier. It could never work. Besides, he's my commanding officer—it wouldn't be seemly. :_

Jissa pondered that for a moment, before replying. _: Social stature has little bearing among Heralds, love. We choose them from all walks of life, and the only Herald with true rank is the Monarch's Own. Even the Monarchs themselves are only Monarch in the Throne Room; everywhere else they're just another Herald. You can love him and still protect him; that is the nature of love, Chosen. As to his being your commanding officer, he no longer is, and even if he were, the Heralds wouldn't care. :_

Yozak sighed_: I don't even know if he's interested in men. He was infatuated with Lady Julia, although he used to date Lord Odalis Gwilherm. But other than that, he's never seemed particularly interested in men. I mean, he only dances with women at the court functions, granted he's danced with me a time or two, but only when I was undercover. : _

Jissa snorted and seemed resigned_: You are very good at disguising your gender. : _She admitted after a moment, before adding_: I can't help you in regards to his preferences, Chosen, but I can say this – he may very well not know his preferences. Either way, don't sell yourself short. :_

_: Conrart has always been able to see through my disguises, even when I fool everyone else. : _He replied mildly, before abruptly remembering that he was still in Brice's office.

Thankfully one didn't survive twenty-five years as a spy without picking up a few things. He blinked, and stifled a mock yawn behind his hand, pretending to be sleepy. "Sorry," he muttered, "didn't get much sleep the day before yesterday and I rode straight through the night to get here. I'm pretty tired."

Brice smiled slightly, "How's the captain taking it? Even if you aren't courting him, you've been friends for years and closer still since the war."

Yozak paused briefly, wondering how best to go about this particular subject. At last, he decided on the direct approach. "Oh, Conrart will probably have a conniption when he finds out. Not that it'll matter. Lord Von Voltaire is drawing up the necessary paperwork as we speak, and Conrart is no longer my commanding officer – seeing how he's also retiring early; for similar reasons I might add."

The look on the older man's face was one of pure shock. "_THE CAPTAIN'S RETIRING_??!!!" he yelped.

"Yup," Yozak replied nodding his head slightly, "He'd have told you himself, but he's currently not in any position to do so. Until further notice, you have command of this division. I'm sure Gwendal will send for you as soon as he has the time. Guard the king well, Brice – or you'll have Conrart and me to deal with."

With that done Yozak turned and left the room, his back ram-rod straight. He had to go and have a talk with Gwendal, and then see Gisela about whatever in the hell she'd force-fed Conrart!

~~~***~~~

A.N: Vellum was originally a translucent or opaque material produced from the skin of an unborn Calf, antelope, deer or lamb. It was more expensive then parchment (which was and is made from the skin of a goat, sheep, or calf) because it is of a much finer quality. Modern day parchment and vellum 'paper' is usually just that high quality paper.


	7. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Chapter 7: parting is such sweet sorrow

Yozak sighed—Jissa and Vanyel had been staring at each other for the better part of an hour, and he got the distinct impression that they were having an argument he wasn't privy to. It was an odd sight, with Vanyel curled up around Conrart like a mare with a foal, glaring up at Jissa who was standing slightly to his left.

He shifted the pile of saddle packs that rested on one of the chairs, as the small tower wobbled precariously. He'd walked in to find this little argument in full swing after giving his report on his last mission to Gwendal, and having a bit of a chat with Gisela. He patted the sealed little vial of the green goo, currently resting in his belt-purse, along with a small slip of paper written up by a different medic, detailing just what was in the concoction, its functions, and possible side effects.

After a few more tense moments, Jissa laid back her ears and pawed the ground impatiently with one silver hoof. Vanyel seemed to wilt at that, and Yozak almost jumped when Jissa brushed his mind. _:You need to get everything off of my saddle, Chosen.: _She said lightly. _: Then you need to get your friend settled, so that you can put all of the packs on Vanyel. After that, we need to get both you and Conrart up into my saddle so that we can go home. :_

_Well, that at least explained what they were arguing about, _he thought tersely as he went about stripping Jissa of any and all of her packs. He started when she went to her knees, lying down with an unnatural grace.

He sent her a questioning feeling at the sight.

_: So you can get Conrart into my saddle without too much trouble. I'll need you to help steady him when I actually get back up and as we go down the stairs, but other than that I shouldn't have any trouble balancing him. We can balance a toddler if we have to, without the help of the saddle. : _

He scooped Conrart up into his arms, mindful of his injuries, and carried him bridle-style over to Jissa. Getting him into the saddle was a bit of a chore – Conrart was almost completely limp, and he needed to be seated astride. The whole process was awkward, particularly since Conrart was wearing nothing more than a thin pair of gauze sleeping pants. He'd started whispering soft, almost unintelligible words of comfort to his friend, wondering at the small jolt of fear and discomfort he'd felt when he manhandled his friend into the saddle. Conrart had flinched and whimpered when Yozak grabbed the inside of his thigh in order to get the younger man's leg across to the other side of the saddle.

He filed that tidbit of information away for further pondering at a more appropriate time; for now he had other, more pressing matters to attend to. He took hold of Conrart's waist to hold him steady as Jissa climbed fluidly to her feet. Conrart whimpered when the fingers of one hand slipped below the fabric of his waist band. Yozak filed that away as well, but otherwise ignored his friend's odd reaction.

It was surprisingly easy to hold his friend steady in the saddle while Jissa climbed to her feet. He shifted Conrart forward slightly, allowing him to rest against the curve of Jissa's neck. The mare sent him a brief feeling of approval once he had the younger man settled to her liking. That accomplished, he turned and went about the relatively simple task of strapping all of their packs onto Vanyel. The colt was –for all intents and purposes – sulking, but he stood still and allowed the process with as much grace as he could muster.

Yozak felt bad for the youngster. It had to be humiliating, to be treated as a pack-mule, but Jissa was bigger than he currently was, and she had the benefit of a fully conscious Chosen to help keep Conrart in the saddle. He smiled, and patted the proudly arched white neck. "Thank you," he whispered. It was odd—had Vanyel been a horse, he would have called him a young stallion, but according to Jissa he was still a colt. Looking at Vanyel, he could see the slightly unfinished look that clung to all young things that had yet to grow into all they would one day be. It was a look he no longer bore, but one that Conrart still retained.

Vanyel flicked an ear in his general direction. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank you so much. If your bond to Conrart is anything like my bond to Jissa, then I think you will be very good for him . . . thank you."

With that he turned, walked up to Jissa, and after a moment's prompting swung up into the saddle with relative ease. He gathered his friend in his arms, mindful of the sword at his hip, and pulled the younger man up to the safety of his chest. Conrart whimpered and struggled against the contact. Without thinking, he reached for Conrart with his mind and sent his friend a feeling of comfort and protectiveness. He honestly didn't know how he did it; it was simply instinct, just like the many times he'd somehow found Conrart in his mind right when he needed him.

It worked—Conrart stopped fighting him, and in fact he cuddled up against him, completely at ease in his arms. Conrart had always been at ease with him, even when they were young. It was completely mutual, and even now, when they were adults (nearly in Conrart's case) he still occasionally woke up next to his friend, although it was far more common for him to greet the day with Conrart curled up in his arms. Yet their relationship was completely platonic.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't wish it was more, but he loved his friend, and was content with whatever Conrart could give him.

He shifted Conrart in his arms; dropped his left arm and encircled the smaller man's slim hips, to help stabilize him. He reached around his friend with his right arm, and grabbed hold of the saddle horn. "Alright, I've got him." he told Jissa calmly, though his grip on Conrart's hips tightened as the mare started forward, Vanyel keeping pace with them easily.

They got only as far as the ruined door to the hallway before they were stopped by The Great Sage.

"I have spoken with Shinou; more time has elapsed on your world then has passed here. Unfortunately, you've missed your transport home. We have arranged to send you back to Valdemar from the temple of The Great One. If you will wait a moment after we get back out to the courtyard, we will escort you there."

Yozak felt a brief moment of gratitude for his friend's foresight; Conrart had long ago ensured that both of their travel bags were waterproof.

_: I was under the impression that this Shinou was your god. : _ Jissa inquired mildly.

_: He is, but he does speak to a few of us—that's where his Eminence has an advantage over the rest of us. He actually knew the Great One, who was our first king. He was there when the war against the Originators was fought. And he was there when the Boxes were sealed and the Keys created. He witnessed the birth of our very nations. He regularly speaks with The Great One. Normally, the only ones who can hear the Great One's voice are the oracles. : _

_: I see, : _she said thoughtfully, _: Tell his eminence that we will be glad of the escort. :_

He relayed Jissa's message and they continued on down the hall.

~~~***~~~

Yozak dismounted carefully at the sight of Daikichi cantering through the gates, his tail flagged. He caught the gelding's reigns, and walked him quietly in small, slow circles to cool him down. The horse stomped one hoof restlessly as he halted. He made swift work of the packs that hung from the saddle, tossing them to Gwendal, so that the other man could deal with the evidence his last mission had generated. Without thinking he hugged his horse—he was going to miss the feisty steed.

But he no longer had any use for a riding mount, or even a horse.

He glanced around looking for a stable hand to give his furry friend off to when his eyes landed on Greta. At thirteen, it really was time she had a horse of her own, yet she still rode a pony. This was Wolfram's doing, ironically, not Yuri's. The prince was worried for his daughter's safety should she have a horse of her own. Greta's Sparkle was an old creature who had to be forced into anything more pressing then a sedate walk. Hell, the little thing was even getting a bit of a sway back.

Wolfram was worried that his adventurous young daughter would escape the watchful gaze of her guards if she rode anything bigger than the pony. He was right; she likely would. But Yosak also knew something Wolfram didn't. Conrart had seen the Princess's adventurous nature years ago and taken steps to ensure her safety. Yuri had been thrilled with the idea of his little girl learning the art of the sword, and while Yuri really was quite hopeless with a blade – Greta was almost as proficient as Wolfram! The captain of the king's guard had also taken to serving as Greta's guard for her early morning ride.

Yozak had found them together outside the city walls just three weeks ago. Conrart was sitting calmly on a large rock, sharpening the point of one of the arrows from the quiver at his back with a practiced ease, while keeping a close eye on Greta, who was enjoying an elicit gallop on Conrart's warhorse. Valiant had seemed as docile as a week old kitten when Greta rode him, but Yozak wasn't fooled – he'd seen the big gelding bash in a man's head at Conrart's command.

He'd teased his friend about how much trouble he'd be in should anyone find out about this. Conrart's retort had been simple. Yuri was well aware of his activities, and the King at least, approved of his daughter's spirit. Yuri also agreed with Conrart that Greta would be safe on a horse because of that adventurous nature.

He took all of that into consideration and in less than the time it took most men to lace up their boots he'd made his decision.

"Greta," he called. "Can I ask a favor of you, princess?"

Greta handed her pony's reigns over to Gwendal, before calmly threading her way past the horses until she stood beside Yozak. He turned his head and glanced down at the young brunette. Greta had grown a lot over the past five years but she still barely reached his chest. He didn't think she'd ever grow to be as tall as her grandmother, or the lady Annisina. She was far smaller in build then either of them. Then she looked up at him, her eyes glittering with a suppressed mirth he'd once associated with her uncle. He swallowed, and glanced over at his friend – Conrart sat passed out in the saddle, his chest pressing against Jissa's proudly arched neck.

Strange, he already made his decision, yet the doing was harder than he expected.

"I, I have Jissa now and as such I no longer have need of a warhorse, or even a pleasure mount." He began, keeping his voice steady by sheer force of will. "You're thirteen now princess, and old enough for a horse. I know Conrart taught you how to ride Valiant and all of the responsibilities and commands that go with it." At her nod he continued. "Conrart gave me Daikichi; he may _LOOK_ like a placid lady's mount, but he's trained Just like Valiant. Do you understand, princess?"

Again he waited for her to nod before continuing. "He's a good horse, and he's actually quite gentle, Princess. You have nothing to fear from him, and he's quite earnest; he'll break his heart or his leg if you ask it of him. Treat him with respect, and I guarantee you'll be safer on his back then you ever would be on that pony of yours. But unfortunately, I can't take him with me, Princess. Will you do me the great honor of seeing to it that he has a proper home? Not as a warhorse, but as a Lady's mount, as his breeding demands?"

Greta could only nod; her hazel eyes wide, and shining with joy. He reached out and took her slim hand in his, and calmly presented the appendage to Daikichi, remembering the day Conrart had done the same to him. The gelding sniffed at her palm for a moment, before bumping her hand with his velvety soft muzzle.

Yozak smiled as he handed her his reins. He chuckled as the girl flung herself at the man, babbling happily, and assuring him Daikichi would be well cared for. Calmly, he reassured his former mount that he'd done well, and promised him a better life in the tender hands of this little girl who was his king's adopted daughter. He also asked the horse if he would please keep the girl safe. Daikichi, knowing Greta's importance to both of the men he'd allowed into his saddle, readily agreed, and Yozak knew in that moment the princess had just had her guard rendered obsolete! That horse would do everything in his power to keep her safe… even at the cost of his own life!

He'd just never realized Wolfram would be the first to test Daikichi's flashing, sharp edged hooves.

~~~***~~~

Wolfram had never been so angry!

_How dare that foolish, bastard half-breed! How dare he go so blatantly against his wishes! And Conrart was just as bad! How dare he allow his daughter to ride a Warhorse?! What the hell was he thinking? Teaching _HIS _LITTLE GIRL to ride a Warhorse! What the Hell was Yozak thinking?! How dare he endanger his little girl by giving her a horse?! She was too young for a horse! She was only thirteen! Hardly more than a baby!_

He reacted without thinking, calling fire to his hands and flinging it at the red haired fool of a half-breed that called itself Lord Weller's closest friend. Unfortunately, the blonde was oblivious to the somewhat important fact that his aim was rarely true when he was this angry, and that Greta was standing only a few feet from Yozak.

Once the Fireball had left his hand it was out of his control.

He could only watch in horror as the massive ball of fire barreled towards his victim –

~~~***~~~

Yozak, the Maoh, and Daikichi reacted simultaneously. Water-dragons roared into existence – shot from the outstretched hands of the Demon King, surging forward to protect their master's beloved daughter, even as Yozak flung himself at Greta, tackling the startled girl, and rolling them both out of the path of the fireball! He kept himself firmly between her and Wolfram's creation.

The red head acted as a living shield between her and the brunt of the fireball's fury. He gritted his teeth at the heat as the damned thing soared past over their heads, before colliding with the stable wall.

He had no time to spare a thought for the horse!

Until Daikichi's enraged squeal rent the air, and Wolfram screamed in alarm.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he pulled himself up into Jissa's saddle; it had taken the better part of an hour to calm down the entire stable yard full of terrified horses. It didn't help that Daikichi had not stopped his attempt on the prince's hide until Vanyel intervened. Yuri had gotten the fire extinguished with some well placed rain, before rounding on his soon to be dead or ex-fiancée. The king very nearly become more of a threat then the enraged Warhorse before the combined efforts of Gwendal and Murata got him to release the completely shaken prince from the grips of his water-dragons.

For her part, a still very badly shaken Princess Greta sat slumped in her new horse's saddle. Daikichi's ears were laid back and he wasn't taking his eyes off the threat to his rider.

It was turning out to be a very long day indeed!

~~~***~~~

The party rode into the temple courtyard and everyone, barring Yozak and Conrart, dismounted calmly, handing their mount's reins over to the temple guards. Murata led them past a couple of very startled Shrine-maidens, and into the Tomb of The Great One. Ulrike greeted them with the same formality she would have given any visiting dignitary, though she seemed mildly surprised by the Companions.

"It will take me a few more hours to prepare for your departure." Ulrike said quietly. "My Lords, My ladies, please make yourselves comfortable. If you'll pardon me, my lords, Princess, I must speak with Yozak." She paused briefly, before adding, "Alone."

Yozak sat quietly atop Jissa's back watching as the other's filed out. When there was no one left but Jissa, Vanyel, Yozak, and the silent fevered young man in his arms, she spoke again.

"Your life as you knew it ends here. You were not born for this world; as such, your life truly starts today. When the time comes that you have no choice but your heart's desire, accept the blessing the Great One has given you. Not many get this chance, so embrace it."

Yozak couldn't help his confusion at her words.

_No choice but his heart's desire? What did that mean? His heart's desire was something he could never claim. _He shook his head and dismissed the very idea as ridiculous; he was in love with a noble, and he could never have anything more than a shadow, a mockery, of his desire . . . assuming Conrart was even interested. He shifted in his saddle, making a mental note to talk with Jissa about interpreting Ulrike's advice at a later date, when he wasn't running on little sleep and completely frazzled.

He didn't even notice that he'd pulled Conrart closer.

"And Yozak," Ulrike said calmly, drawing his attention back to her even as they turned to leave the room. "Remember that the past has no bearing on the future when handled with love and patience."

Jissa stood quietly in the doorway, and Yozak found himself truly at a loss for words. What did that have to do with anything? He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you." He replied.

_: Well that was creepy. : _Jissa said snidely as they left the room.

Yozak snorted_: That was Lady Ulrike, the Oracle, and yes, she can be a bit creepy. : _He answered, trying desperately not to laugh.

~~~***~~~

Three hours later, they reconvened in the Tomb of the Great One, with Yozak taking care not to jostle his heavily sedated friend. It was odd—he was no longer the same man he'd been just the other day. That man was content to just be Yozak, to be alone. He'd been happy with the little life had given him, and he still was to some extent, but now Jissa had wandered into his life and turned it upside-down. He was only mildly alarmed by the realization that he didn't mind . . . not really.

When he'd first been Chosen, he'd expected to have to fight with Gwendal to get the man to release him from his post, and expected to have to leave Conrart behind altogether. Now he found Conrart would be going with him to this new world. That was something that made him both every glad and yet it also saddened him greatly.

He didn't have any family to worry about. Conrart was his only family. For him, being Chosen was a great opportunity, and one he was more than willing to take, particularly since Conrart would be coming with him. Yet his friend would be leaving behind almost everything he knew: his family, his home, and the godson he had sworn to protect. Still, he was glad he would have his friend with him in this. Yet he was saddened by the knowledge of everything his friend was losing.

"Take care of yourself, Yozak." Gwendal said calmly, but the slight waver of his voice betrayed him as he added "and take care of Conrart."

Yozak inclined his head briefly, only mildly amused by Gwendal's request. He'd always taken care of his friend, and always would.

"Excuse me," Ulrike interjected before he could reply, "but it is time."

Yozak nodded, and shifted Conrart closer, so that the smaller man rested against his chest. Something soft brushed his arm and he glanced over at Gwendal, to find the man attempting to hand him his greatcoat.

"Sir?" he inquired in mild surprise.

Gwendal's normally hard blue eyes were mild as he looked at Yozak. "You will be traveling through water," he replied simply. "Conrart already has a fever, and Gisela tells me the drug she gave him is strong, and has the unfortunate side affect of depressing the immune system. Conrart has enough on his plate; he doesn't need a cold as well."

"Thank you, Lord Von Voltaire," Yozak replied; taking the coat from the man's hand, he draped it across his friend's chest, covering his shoulders as well.

Gwendal took a step back away from Jissa's side, "There is a letter in the breast pocket; make sure Conrart receives it."

"Yes, sir," Yozak replied, mostly out of long habit.

He shifted his weight in the saddle as Jissa moved. She ambled forward at an easy walk, with Vanyel at her side, until all four of her legs were immersed in water up to her fetlocks. Water sprang up around them, engulfing them in a blanket of lukewarm water. He was amazed to discover he didn't seem to need to breathe. The water around them began to swirl, and he felt curiously light. White light danced before his eyes and he briefly wondered if this was what Yuri and Murata saw and felt every time they went back to earth.

Abruptly he was cold, and his lungs burned.

~~~***~~~

**A.N. **

**Werewolf**: This fic has been edited by the Grammar Nazi.

**Pirate**: Yes! All grammar mistakes must be rounded up and persecuted! None shall pass . . . my awesome spelling skills! Mehehehehehehehe.

**Werecat**: Blink. Blink. Blink… O-kay now then. Where shall we build the Grammar concentration camp? I don't want it in my backyard. Oh and remember although the Pirate may be a Grammar Nazi, any and all twisted and evil things come from yours truly.

**Werewolf**: Honestly I don't care where it is as long as it's not in my forest… I have to run there you know! Awoooo! 'sides bad grammar smells funny…. O.o Feline, what's with the Meow Mix song? Have we stepped into a bad commercial? And we all know you have a twisted mind… must be a Cat thing.

**Werecat**: Meow, Meow… Mow. -.- I don't like you very much. *Hisses and swipes at stupid dog.*

**Pirate**: ¡Oy que la penada! ¡Mira estos animales! And how the fuck do you know what bad grammar smells like?

**Werecat**: I am not an empanada!

**Werewolf**: U no I don't speaky Spanish!

**Pirate**: -_- You did that on purpose just to piss me off, didn't you?

**Werewolf**: Admit nothing, deny everything, and make counter accusations!

**Werecat**: And when all else fails…kill all witnesses!

**Pirate**: Remind me why I beta read for this weirdo again? I swear I don't get paid enough to deal with this crap. . . and why is the rum always gone?!

**WereCat:** You don't get paid at all!

**Wherewolf:** Pssst… Feline… did you hide the rum properly this time? We don't want her finding again. Just drink the gin, Captain.

**Pirate:** *Sigh* I knew I should have gotten wasted the last time we were in port.

**Werecat:** Of course I did it's in the…*glares at pirate* Oh no, you're not gonna get me to tell you where it is that easy.

**Pirate:** Until next time, folks! In the meanwhile, I have a feline that needs to walk the plank!

**Werecat:** At least I still have nine lives . . . and I can swim.

**Werewolf:** Are we in eel infested waters by any chance?

**Werecat:** They're shark infested waters! Read the bloody book!

**Werewolf:** Aw, but eels are more fun . . . and they taste better too.

**Pirate:** Can we sell them on Ebay?

**P.S.**

**Werewolf:** Even this Author's Note has been edited by the Grammar Nazi… who we swear has OCD.

**Pirate:** It's CDO, Goddamnit! How many times do I have to tell you?! Get it right!

**Werecat:** Oh and if this A.N. was long… well we're making up for the 6 chapters that didn't have any.


	8. I Don't think we're in Shin Makoku

Chapter 8: I don't think were in Shin Makoku anymore.

Selenay sighed as she shifted through the pile of paperwork that had accumulated on her desk. She'd spent the past two weeks dealing with her very worried council and the wild speculations on the two newest trainees. The gossip surrounding Companion Jissa's Chosen, were nowhere near as outlandish as those surrounding Companion Vanyel's Chosen, for the simple reason that Jissa at least was eleven and old enough to choose her Herald. Vanyel, by comparison was only five, not even fully grown, and yet he was Choosing his Herald. Since Companions had the habit of Choosing their Heralds in time for them to be in whites when they were needed, the entire council and to a lesser extent the Circle was abuzz with gossip and wild rumors. That the Companions in question had to go _OFF WORLD_ to find their Chosen only added fuel to the fire.

She groaned and pulled the top most paper off of the stack. She _hated _Tax Reports! It seemed like that was all she'd been doing today! Tax Forms, requisition forms, and a whole slew of things that absolutely needed her attention, or worse her signature! But at least she didn't have to deal with the Petitioners; she'd delegated that task to her Husband Daren. She shifted in her seat—Daren at least would be done soon; perhaps she'd take a break, go for a ride with Caryo, and clear her head.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Daren walked into her office, resplendent in his whites, the light flashing briefly off of the slim circlet of gold that rested upon his brow. "Have you eaten?" he asked, well aware of his wife's tendency to forget to eat.

Selenay smiled up at her husband as she set her pen down. Now that she thought about it, she was actually quite hungry. This wasn't surprising since noon had passed about three candle-marks ago. "No, I'm afraid not."

Daren smiled, "Well then, my beautiful Queen, we shall simply have to rectify that, wont we?" he said, offering her his hand.

Selenay smiled; she loved it when her husband acted like this. This sort of sweet and charming behavior was the reason why she'd originally fallen in love with and married Daren's elder brother. The difference was that Daren really was sweet and charming, in addition to being Chosen. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, before linking her arm with his. It was odd—her former, and now dead, husband had never bothered to act sweet and charming after their wedding night. Daren was sweet, kind and gentle; he wasn't afraid to shoulder his share of the work and since he was a Herald, he understood her ties to her Companion perfectly.

She left her office on her husband's arm, headed for the palace kitchens. "How about a picnic in Companion's Field? What do you think, love?" He asked as they turned a corner and exited the old palace.

It was early spring, and a little bit cold despite the afternoon heat, but thankfully the weather was not cold enough to require a cloak, even though it was slightly chilly. It sounded lovely though, and the mere idea made her heart flutter.

She never got the chance to answer though, since just as she opened her mouth to do so, Alberich's mind brushed her own.

The shock, worry and urgency in the brief, soft touch startled her, and she immediately opened her mind to his.

_: Something is going to happen at the River, Highness. I know not what, only that something will happen there. :_

She got so much more from him then words in that brief mind-touch. She could feel the wind whipping at his hair, and tugging on his cloak; she could feel Kantor as the big stallion sprinted for the river, Alberich clinging to him bareback with the skill of a trained Herald. Abruptly Caryo was in her mind, images flowing down the link with her Companion.

Absently, she realized Alberich was cursing.

She broke into an all out run, with Daren at her side, prompted she knew by the urgency he was likely receiving from his own Jasan. They rounded a corner and took the stairs, two at a time, heading down. She leapt the last few steps, landing easily on the floor, only mildly surprised by the streak of white and reddish brown that abruptly appeared by her side.

Talia—she recognized her Queen's Own absently, as the smaller woman fell into step beside her. She hit the door that led out into the Gardens hard; thankfully it was unlocked and gave beneath her slight weight. She froze briefly as the changing light burned her eyes, then Rolan, Caryo, Jasan, and Gwena, came thundering up to them at a full gallop. She had just enough time to wonder at the presence of her eldest Daughter's Companion, before Herald-Mage Elspeth vaulted, spindle legged onto the bareback of her mare. Talia was only seconds behind her, not even bothering to wait for Rolan to come to a complete halt. The stallion had simply reared up and pivoted around on his hind hooves, and then she was on his back, clinging like a burr on a sheep, and they were off like a flung lightning bolt, before Selenay's own Caryo had even come to a complete halt.

She scrambled up onto her Companion's back, astride, in spite of her long white, velvet skirts, which hiked up around her legs in a manner that would be considered scandalous on any out-kingdom lady of rank. Caryo waited only long enough for her to grab a double handful of her rich white mane before she shot off after the others.

Rolan led the way into Companions field, leaping over the small fence that separated the field from the rest of the palace. They thundered up to the river in a blur of white, and came to an abrupt halt before the bubbling churning waters. Selenay shifted on her Companion's back and glanced over at Alberich, whose right hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Without thinking, she signaled her Heralds and watched quietly as both Heralds and Companions moved quickly to comply with her order, spreading out until they'd effectively surrounded the anomaly.

The strange happenings at the river had startled the Companions, who in turn had alerted their Heralds, and the palace had boiled over into a sea of White as every Herald flew like the arrows they were named for. If this turned out to be an attack of some sort, it would be met by Heraldic steel. Alberich and Talia flanked the queen while Elspeth sat calmly atop her Companion, with her Lord step-father and uncle on her left, and her husband Darkwind, the only non-heraldic presence in the field, standing quietly at her right side, a large falcon perched quietly on his shoulder.

Blue light bathed the field, emanating from the river itself, before a Companion stallion lunged up and out of the water, silver hooves digging furrows in the soft turf of the riverbank as the stallion dragged himself free of the river. His royal blue tack was heavy with packs, so that he bore a passing resemblance to a pack horse, particularly since the saddle itself was empty.

_: That's Vanyel. : _Caryo supplied the name unnecessarily. Of the eight Companions, whose Heralds would make up this year's class, one had returned just as Vanyel and Jissa left, three had returned last night, and of the two stallions still out only Vanyel was this young. The last companion had Chosen unexpectedly this morning on the palace grounds.

She idly wondered where his Chosen was and who in their right mind would use a Companion as a beast of burden. She didn't have to wonder long, for even as the young Companion shook his coat free of the clinging droplets of the still icy river the field was bathed in light again, and a heavily laden mare surged up out of the river.

_: That's Jissa.: _Caryo supplied again.

For a moment, Selenay was completely flabbergasted by the sight of a Companion returning from their search with two riders. Logically, she knew that one of the two men was Jissa's Chosen and the other … well; the other had to be Vanyel's. What she couldn't figure out was why in the nine hells they would both be in Jissa's saddle. Then she realized one of the two men was completely limp in the arms of the other.

_He's unconscious,_ she realized abruptly. _And the tack doesn't have the supports. Jissa's carrying them both so that the younger one will stay on. Now the question is which trainee is which?_

Unsurprisingly, it was Caryo who supplied the answer, even as the additional Heralds began to disperse. _: Jissa says her Chosen is the red-head, his name is Yozak. The other man in his arms is Vanyel's Chosen, Conrart. Apparently, their healers mistook a strong mind-speech gift for a sign of insanity, and drugged the poor boy. He's not Chosen yet; Vanyel didn't have the chance to do so before the drug took effect, he needs a healer though—he's injured, sick, and now he's been drugged as well. Van says it will likely be a few days before he wakes. :_

Selenay watched as Daren quietly rode up to the newest trainee, and attempted to take his unconscious burden out of his arms.

It didn't go over very well.

_: Don't you dare touch him!: _A new voice snapped into their minds in an untrained and powerful broad-send. Selenay flinched, and resisted the urge to clamp her hands over her ears despite the fact that the voice was purely mental.

She noticed the two swords hanging from Vanyel's saddle, and the third strapped to Yozak's hip. She also noticed the heavy musculature of the man's arms, the hard glint in his bright blue eyes, and most importantly, the way his arms tightened around young Conrart.

_:Jissa thinks they may be life-bound; he broke the healer's arm, trying to protect him. Whatever you do, I recommend you do it carefully though—he's life-bonded and overprotective. : _

Selenay thanked Caryo for her information, than reached for the young man's mind. She was only momentarily surprised by what she found there. The young man was understandably scared, and reluctant to release his burden. She could feel the love and affection he felt for his friend, but she could also feel the burning pain of an unacknowledged lifebond. She could feel his wicked sense of humor, and the overwhelming loyalty he felt for his people, his country, his Maoh, and his prince. She could see the Herald he would become, but first they had to get them both over this hurtle.

_: We won't hurt him, youngling. : _She said calmly, watching as he jumped at the slight brush of her mind against his. _ : He's obviously ill, and the cold isn't going to be good for him. We'll take him to a healer; you can join him there if you wish, after you get changed into something dry. We can't have you catching cold as well. Come now, you have my word, we won't hurt him. :_

It was a bit of a shock to find herself under the scrutiny of his calculating flame-blue eyes, he regarded her with a look of shrewd intelligence, and she got the distinct impression that she was being measured. It was unnerving. Abruptly his eyes lost their focus, and she knew he was talking with his Companion. He inclined his head briefly, before turning his sharp gaze upon Daren. He said something aloud and in his own tongue.

The words were unintelligible, but the tone and intent were clear warning.

Then with a carefulness that put Selenay in mind of a mother handing over a newborn, he passed Conrart into Daren's arms. The green Greatcoat draped across the boy's slim shoulders and chest slipped, giving them all a clear view of just why Yozak was being so overprotective. Conrart's arm and shoulder were tightly bound in bandages, and he was badly bruised.

Jasan waited only long enough for Daren to settle his new burden securely before he shot off at a gallop, headed for the Healer's Collegium.

Selenay sighed—it was going to be a very long day. With that in mind, she reached for Yozak with her mind-speech again, well aware that they had to get him dried off and dressed before he caught his death of cold.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he peeled his sopping wet clothing from his body—he'd be lying if he said he wasn't cold. He was currently standing in what he assumed was a closet of some sort, quickly changing out of his wet clothing. His tunic and undershirt came off first, followed by his greaves, boots, and leggings. He'd handed belt and sword to the man currently occupying the small space with him. Herald Alberich, was a tall man, his hair now mostly slate gray with only the barest touches of its original black, and streaked through with white. The old face was streamed with scars. Scars similar to the ones King Belar would carry to his grave. Scars Yozak knew had come from an unfortunately close encounter with fire.

He had far too much tact to inquire after how the man got them.

As for Belar, the man deserved what he'd gotten—it had taken Conrart months to heal after that monster had succeeded in obtaining him, and he still bore the scars of that encounter.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge old memories, and quickly pulled a clean set of clothing out of his packs. Now he was dressed with his wet clothing tucked securely into a waterproof bag, inside of his packs with a brisk efficiency that had taken years of military service to accomplish.

Fully dressed and dry, he held out his hand for the weapon that he'd handed to the gray clad Herald. Alberich handed it to him without so much as a word, and Yozak got the impression that he'd passed some sort of test in the man's eyes. He dismissed the feeling as inconsequential. As far as he knew, he had no reason to value this man's opinion. Jissa had informed him that Alberich was the most respected weapons master in Valdemar; Yozak however had all the approval he needed, by his way of thinking. He was one of the very few men who even came close to Conrart in skill. He had his friend and captain's approval—that was all he needed.

He buckled the belt firmly about his hips and nodded to his silent shadow before leaving the room. He paused for a brief second, closing his eyes and reaching for that spot deep within himself that cried 'Conrart'. He remembered with a shudder the pain that day so many years ago, when his friend had left their world to deliver King Yuri's soul, without so much as a goodbye. When Conrart had left, their bond had been stretched far beyond its limits, and he'd actually thought his friend dead. He'd mourned his loss and flung himself into his work in a futile attempt to run from the emptiness deep within his soul.

Conrart's return had been the happiest moment of his life!

He thought about the jolt of pain he'd felt just a few short days ago when Conrart had fallen from Valiant's saddle, and recalled the moment of acute agony he'd felt five, long years ago when Conrart had lost his left arm in service of their king.

Now he used that connection in the same way he had for almost as long as he could remember. He honed in on the slight throb of broken bones, and the confused torrent of muted emotion that was his best friend in a drug haze, and followed it through a maze of hallways. He held his head high and ignored the startled expressions of the people he passed by. He wove his way through the suddenly crowded hall as a bell tolled the hour somewhere nearby. He filed everything away for later use as he continued to walk, following the bond where it led.

~~~***~~~

Herald Alberich had to admit when the Queen had asked him to play nursemaid to their newest trainee, he'd been mildly annoyed. He was having a fairly rotten day so far and wanted nothing more than a nice relaxing ride with Kantor. Having to teach today's lessons from his Companion's back thanks to a series of annoyingly unfortunate events, old age (not that he'd ever admit to being old), and an out-kingdom healer with a flair for the dramatic, had him more than irritable to begin with. He'd been completely sure the young man –who couldn't have been much older than twenty, twenty-one at the oldest – was going to have a fit about being asked to change his clothing in a small broom cupboard. He'd expected the man to glare at him and refuse to move an inch until he at least turned around and gave him some privacy.

He'd been completely taken aback when the man had simply stripped to the skin after wordlessly offering him his weapon. He'd begun a mental tally of things he'd have to change with the young trainee the second the man handed him his sword. Granted, Jissa was likely in his head telling him it was safe to disarm in front of any Herald, but sometimes good old fashioned paranoia kept people alive, and he didn't want any of the Heralds to ever make the mistake of forgetting that!

He'd made up his mind to talk to the trainee about handing his only weapon to someone he'd just met. Then the man had pulled off his overly long tunic and Alberich had seen the slight glint of steel sticking up from under Yozak's black undershirt and realized the young man was wearing a hidden dagger. He relaxed, but only just.

Alberich couldn't –quite - believe the sheer number and wide variety of weapons hidden on the red-head's person. Idly he wondered how many of the different weapons the boy could actually wield. The dagger at the man's breast was the one he found himself most curious about. How many men carried a lady's breast dagger hidden on their bodies? The thin coil of wire at his hip was also a source of intrigue; particularly since the Yozak's clothing gave the illusion of being too tight to effectively hide anything. What he wore really was unremarkable—he'd fit just about anywhere, from the palace to the slums; all he needed to do was add a bit of dirt and alter the way he carried himself, Alberich realized with a start.

He was beginning to suspect the man of being an undercover operative by trade.

The young man had stripped, dried off, and redressed with a military briskness that Alberich recognized. He found himself mildly amused when the man swung his packs over one well muscled shoulder and left the room, the heels of his boots making almost no noise on the wood paneled floor. Yozak paused briefly, closing his eyes before he started off down the maze-like palace corridors, carrying himself with the economy of motion Alberich had only seen in men who'd carried a blade for a very long time. His practiced eye noted the fact that he moved as though the sword at his hip was a part of his body; he'd lay wager that young Yozak knew his blade, and knew it well. Yet his every move held the grace of a well bred lady on the dance floor.

It was an odd combination.

And suddenly they'd arrived at the Healer's Collegium. Startled, he reached for Kantor.

_: He's, well honestly, I don't know how he did it, but Jissa says he's always aware of Conrart. They must have shared minds before; it's the only way he'd be able to use Mindspeech to find someone who's comatose. : _

Alberich nodded despite the fact that Kantor was out in the field somewhere, and currently preoccupied with the young filly he was trying to teach to fight. Mindful of what his Companion suspected, he decided to follow where the young man led, curious about whether he'd find his friend as effortlessly as he'd found the Healers Wing.

The man muttered to himself in a language that was quite beyond Alberich's ability to comprehend, and lengthened his stride until he was all but running. Alberich lengthened his stride accordingly, wondering what had happened. Worried, he reached for Selenay.

_: What's happening, Highness? : _He inquired after getting his Queen's attention.

Selenay's reply was bland and mildly curious. _: Not much; we've gotten Vanyel's Chosen out of his wet clothing and Healer Dolan is currently examining him. Why do you ask? :_

Alberich's reply was prompt. _: Because Jissa's Chosen has just started to run; I was wondering if there was a reason. :_

_: Not that I know of. :_

~~~***~~~

A.N this is my first Chapter fic, So please review… kay thanks.

Vocab:

Lifebond: a joining of the soul, the death of one is usually the death of the other.

Queen's Own: is an office in Valdemar, it's held by a Herald who is in complete trust of the monarch, each is chosen by the Companion that belonged to their predecessor, in this case Rolan who belonged to Talemar before he Chose Talia after Talemar's death. This is pretty much the only case where Companion survives his Herald.

King/prince Co-consort: In Valdemar you have to be a herald to rule, Selenay was Chosen and fully trained by the time she turned 16, when her father died she took the throne. Her first husband failed to realize this and married her for power, then turned around and tried to kill her once he realized she couldn't simply make him a Herald or Hand him the throne.

Healer: medic/doctor

Ironically it was born one morning at like 3.35 when Werecat and I couldn't sleep and started debating who would win in a fight, Alberich from Mercedes Lackey or Conrart from K.K.M. originally it was supposed to be a(n?) oneshot 0.o as you can see that didn't work… the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone.

By the Way: welcome to Valdemar Kyo Kara Maoh Fans and for those of you who are native – welcome home.


	9. The chapter in which stuff happens and t

Chapter 9: the chapter in which stuff happens and thus progresses the plot.

Talia sighed. She could feel the young trainee's distress, and was stunned by the depth of his fever dreams. Normally she felt very little from the comatose residents of the House of Healing, yet what she currently felt from him was distress, pain, and fear. She wondered whether the new trainee was prone to night terrors, particularly since his distress seemed to heighten the longer Dolan was touching him. She gently placed her right hand on his forehead, focusing out and down, reaching out with her gift and tried to sooth the boy.

For a moment it seemed to be working, the boy was calming down.

Abruptly what she was feeling from him changed—he'd noticed what she was doing. She felt a brief moment of confusion as the boy realized she wasn't who he thought she was, before she had the most curious sensation of being pushed away. It wasn't very strong – more like what one would feel if a really small child or a baby attempted to push them away.

Fetching, she realized absently, the boy had the fetching gift. She couldn't begin to guess at how strong it was, but she did know it took a great deal of power to do what he'd just done. She was mildly surprised—she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times people had actually noticed the gift of empathy at work, and still have several fingers left over.

He whimpered, and struggled vainly against the thin sheet covering his nude body. His distress was plain to her, even without the aid of her empathy. She moved to sooth the boy again, only to be shoved aside by a red haired whirlwind. She staggered briefly, and collided with Selenay before Alberich caught and steadied them both.

"Alright, are the both of you?" Alberich asked as he settled Talia on her feet.

"I'm alright Alberich." Selenay and Talia said in unison.

Talia turned and took in the sight before her—the red head, Yozak, if memory served, had settled himself down on his friend's bed. One hand rested lightly on his friend's naked shoulder, the other gently carded through the younger man's mahogany locks. He was talking quietly, his tone soothing, and laced with something more. From the feel of it, she suspected the young man had the gift of Empathy.

To her immense surprise the younger man calmed almost immediately at his touch. Yozak sat there for a moment longer, gently stroking his friend's hair. Finally he turned, his hand still resting in the brunette's hair, and started asking rapid fire questions in a tongue she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

~~~***~~~

Yozak was beyond annoyed, he leaves Conrart unattended for a few minutes and these people somehow manage to screw things up. Even unconscious he could feel his friend's distress.

"What the hell happened?!" he demanded sharply of the nearby people. "What did you do to him?! Why is he panicking?! And why in the name of The Great One, is he naked and draped in a sheet?!! He's sick; can't you ruddy idiots see that?! Do you want him to catch his death?! Answer me, damn it! Why won't you answer me?!!"

Predictably, nobody answered his inquiry.

_Oh that's nice, talk to them in a language they can't understand! _He mentally scolded himself. To be perfectly honest, he was really too angry to care; Conrart was sick, injured, and had been through – quite – enough in the past few days! He didn't need this shit!

Closing his eyes briefly, he took comfort in the feel of his friend's soft hair and focused his mind. He wanted answers and he wanted them now! In order to get those answers, unfortunately, he was going to have to be a bit more intimate with these people than he was really comfortable with. He reached out with his mind and attempted to speak with them the same way he normally spoke with Conrart – without words.

_: Would you kindly tell me just what happened, to make my – to make Conrart panic? : _He mentally growled.

A new voice entered his mind, and Yozak felt himself bristle at the placating tone. _: I assure you, in the name of my own Companion that we have done nothing to harm your friend. I believe he is simply feeling the effects of his fever. Has he many horrors in his life that would account for these night terrors? :_

Yozak had never understood the human practice of proving their honor by backing it with the name or honor of something or someone they held dear. It struck him as being just as absurd as if he'd used Conrart's name to bolster his own honor and pride. 

_: Chosen, to a Herald, swearing falsely on any Companion's name, let alone your own is considered one of the greatest blasphemies: _Jissa's mental voice was calm and gentle as she attempted to soothe him. _ : Don't take it lightly. :_

Yozak sighed, feeling his hackles lower at his Companion's words. It was strange; she'd Chosen him less than a day ago, yet her very presence was enough to calm him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before reaching out with his mind again.

_: Conrart's past is his own tale to tell. Jissa tells me you are to be trusted; on her judgment I will give you that trust. :_

The tall slender man inclined his head, the first traces of grey flashing against his dusty blonde hair. _: Is there any other question you need answered, trainee Yozak? : _He asked.

Yozak blinked, startled by the use of his name. How could a man he'd only just met know his name? Long years as a spy dragged him immediately back to the alert, as warning bells sang in his head. Again Jissa was there, with a gentle soothing touch to his mind, calming him, comforting him. This man was Daren, Chosen of Companion Jasan, and King Co-consort to the throne of Valdemar. He knew his name apparently because Jissa had told Jasan. They all knew his name.

He sighed and gathered his concentration before reaching out with what Jissa had informed him was a gift called Mindspeech. _: Jissa tells me that you are Herald Daren. So, Daren, would you mind telling me why my fevered friend is naked but for that flimsy sheet? : _

The man was a King, his new king, and yet he found he could not see him as such. It was to Yuri he'd given that honor, and he could not bring himself to defile the name of his Maoh by giving the title to another. He shifted his stance and met the other man's hazel-grey eyes with his own blue. To his surprise, Daren didn't seem even remotely concerned with the absence of his rank and title in the address, and Jissa informed him quite candidly that the Heralds didn't stand on ceremony when it came to each other.

Daren smiled, and took a few steps forward, until his hand rested lightly on Yozak's shoulder. _:Your friend is naked because his clothing is wet, and Healer_ _Dolan is currently examining him. He informs me that your friend has a badly broken left arm; apparently, two of the bones were broken and came through the skin. He's also suffering from a fractured clavicle. Dolan is checking the way both of these were set, and is making sure that the journey here caused him no more damage than the cold dunking.: _

Yozak nodded, and fished around in his belt pouch, looking for the vial of goo he'd lifted off of Gisela. He briefly wondered if her arm was alright; he hadn't meant to twist so hard. Dismissing the thought as irrelevant given the rather large dimensional chasm currently between them, he held the vial out to Daren.

_: I managed to get a vile of this from Gisela, our healer at home. She mistook Conrart's gift for a mental illness and drugged him. This is what she gave him; I was hoping maybe one of your healers could at least identify it. Years ago when Conrart first got his gift, he was injured during the war and not thinking clearly. Then he mentioned 'voices' to Gisela, and she thought the stress of war had gotten to him. He was too young to go in the first place, but Stoffel sent him anyway! The bastard wanted him to 'prove his honor on the battlefield'! _

_She drugged him for it, and since Conrart never mentioned it again she thought him 'cured'. When she heard Conrart tell Lord Von Voltaire to strengthen the castle guard because something had taken information about the castle and its grounds from his mind, she decided to experiment with different herbs to find something that worked. I have a list of the different herbs and their uses and side effects if you need it. : _

Daren blinked, and yelped _: War? He's just barely a man; does this Stoffel make a habit of sending infants into the field to fight a war?! : _

Yozak shifted his weight and met the man's eyes, feeling strangely gratified if a little amused at the horror in Daren's mental voice. _: Conrart is older then he looks, but still, even by the standards of our own people he is young. And no, Stoffel would cringe at the mere thought of sending either of Conrart's brothers to war at so young an age as he sent Conrart! When presented with the opportunity to slay Conrart while he slept, however, well . . . let's just say I have a scar that proves the bastard would take it. And don't tell Conrart, he doesn't know. : _

_~~~***~~~_

Daren was completely horrified by that little bit of information. How could anyone be so callous as to attempt to slay a boy while he slept? _: How old was he? : _He inquired, dreading the response.

_:Conrart was only just sixty winters old. : _Yozak replied, confusing him even further.

_Sixty? How could a boy who looked like he'd only just turned nineteen be older than sixty? _He wondered idly, before deciding the simplest thing to do would be to ask._ : I beg your pardon; did you just say he was only sixty? :_ He asked, after regaining the ability to string words together into sentence form.

Yozak blinked at him, looking mildly surprised by his shock. _: The human equivalent would be a little younger then twelve, assuming humans here age the same way they do in my world. :_

Daren briefly wondered if the young man before him really wasn't human, before dismissing the thought as something to be pondered later. He nodded his head and passed Healer Dolan the vial, telling him that it was what the boy's healer had given him for his Mindspeech gift, since she thought he was losing his mind; he also informed a horrified Dolan that the drug itself was 'experimental'.

Dolan pried the cap of the vial off and inspected the contents, raising an eyebrow as a sickly yellow bubble appeared in the green goo, and gagging a bit on the sulfuric smell.

~~~***~~~

Selenay sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Well, she'd wanted some excitement to get her away from the mountains of paperwork that had piled up on her desk. Lord and Lady had she gotten it! First two Companions, one of them a five year old colt who just happened to be her many times great grandsire, go off to an entirely different world in search of their Chosen, then the catastrophe with the council finding out just how young Vanyel actually was. Another uproar occurred when yet another Companion had Chosen the young servant boy Justin this morning, when the boy had run into Companion's Field in pure terror after accidently setting something on fire with his gift.

Add to that the fact that the newest batch of Trainees was older than normal. Sandra, who's Companion had brought her in a good forty minutes after the return of Jissa and Vanyel, was nearly fifteen – and the youngest of the lot. At sixteen trainees Justin, Victoria, and her twin sister Valentine, weren't much older. Austen was a bit older. The nineteen year old, was actually quite pretty in an effeminate manner. Then came the - not so young -trainee currently lying in the House of Healing. Conrart looked to be about 19, though Yozak had informed them he was only about 135, and apparently still very young by the standards of their people. Yozak himself was the Mazoku equivalent of 20 at the tender age of 143. The last was trainee I'Ryn, a Journeymen bard who had interestingly enough, been Chosen the moment she set foot inside the border of Valdemar.

She wasn't exactly happy about it either.

She was 22.

Selenay emitted a small squeak, and just about melted, when Daren started rubbing her shoulders. She leaned back into his strong body, gratefully accepting the massage. "I wonder if the ages of the newest group of trainees has anything to do with what Valdemar will face in the future." She mused aloud.

"They aren't that much older than what we have come to expect and we've had older trainees before. Wasn't Alberich a man grown by the time he was Chosen?" Daren replied mildly, as he worked a particularly bad knot out of her shoulders. "What I'm really worried about is the number of new trainees. Isn't eight kind of a large class?"

Selenay considered her husband's words. While it was true that each year group usually consisted of five to six trainees. Seven wasn't that much bigger of a number, but eight however was pushing it. She said as much to Daren, even as she began to run the implications of the numbers over in her mind. Her mental debate was cut short by Caryo.

_: It is true Companions do not Choose if there is no need, Chosen. However did it not occur to you that the need may not necessarily be Valdemar's? Given five years time Vanyel would have left to search out his Chosen, and brought young Conrart home to us, just as it is true that Jissa would have left in a few months time and brought us Yozak. However in this case it was the NEED of a Herald that called his Companion to him, years before the bond was to be forged. :_

Selenay blinked. She honestly had never even considered that.

Caryo's voice was smug. _: I thought not. A word of advice, sister of my heart, when that boy wakes I suggest you have somebody teach him to shield properly. :_

Selenay's own reply was cut off by one of the guards stationed at her door, announcing the presence of Healer Dolan.

She gave him permission to allow the man entrance, mildly curious as to the purpose of the healer's visit. Daren took a step away from her and moved forward to stand calmly at her side, while Talia, who'd been busy pacing the room, moved to stand slightly behind her.

Dolan bowed slightly as he entered the room, "Forgive the intrusion, your Majesties, Queen's own." He said calmly addressing each of them briefly. "However, I find myself in need of a few moments of your time."

He paused briefly, obviously awaiting their reply.

"I see, and how may we be of service to you, healer Dolan?" Daren replied for them both.

Dolan sighed and shifted from foot to foot looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Highness, forgive me, but I need to know where you got your information about the trainee currently in my care. Particularly where you got the information about his being 'forced' to drink the drugs currently in his system and whether or not this source is trustworthy."

Daren blinked in mild surprise, before answering calmly. "I got the information from Trainee Yozak. May I inquire as to why you ask?"

Dolan shifted nervously. "My lord, it is not unheard of for a man to protect his friends, even if it means painting things in a somewhat more favorable light."

It was Talia who answered him, her tone short but inquisitive. "You accuse a Heraldic trainee of dishonesty. To what end?"

"Is it not possible that the boy feared your reactions?" Dolan replied quietly. "Frankly, there is enough of that drug in his system to be lethal, and the herbs in that mixture are volatile at best and have to be picked fresh. In addition to that some of them are of the variety that taken too early they are poisonous, or taken too late they cause hallucinations."

Selenay felt as though the man had physically struck her as she realized what he meant, with the force of Caryo's previous words behind them.

"_In this case it was the NEED of a Herald that called his Companion to him" she had said._

She took a deep breath. "You think Conrart attempted suicide?" she asked mildly.

"It is one explanation, my lady."

Selenay sighed, and wondered just how to reassure the man; she didn't think he was right since the first thing Caryo had told her about the boy was that a healer mistook his Mindspeech for a sign of insanity. But still she couldn't get Caryo's words about _need, _out of her head.

Abruptly she felt the presence of another in her mind; the presence was both young and old, in addition to being decidedly male, if a bit effeminate. It wasn't till he spoke that she knew him for who he was…Companion Vanyel.

_: My Chosen needed me and so I was called to him, it has happened before. The only reason they question it is because I am so young. The bond between Conrart and I may not be fully formed, and I have yet to actually Choose him, but I can assure you that he did not attempt suicide. He's not the type to ever consider it. I felt his fear when they pinned him down to force-feed him that goo. He was terrified, and less then pleased with the fact that the healer was forcing him to drink a medication he'd already refused. I bashed in three solid wood doors to get to him, and then I had the dubious pleasure of kicking a man off of my Chosen. He didn't drink it voluntarily.:_

Selenay blinked, and slowly a smile spread across her lips. She looked up at Dolan, her eyes warm. "Would you take the word of the boy's Companion then? Vanyel has given me the events from his point of view. He confirms what trainee Yozak has told us." 

Dolan inclined his head. "Then I am well satisfied my lady." Abruptly he seemed to focus on something else, and Selenay wondered whom he spoke to.

He paled. "I hope young Conrart is a fighter," he said simply before adding, "Or we may find ourselves laying him to rest before he ever dons his grays." With that he turned and fled the office at a run.

She caught Talia's eye. "He's afraid." Her Queen's Own said simply, before adding "for someone else."

Selenay reached for Dolan with her mind, and sent him a questioning feeling.

_: The boy just started to vomit. : _was all the answer he gave her.

~~~***~~~

Vanyel reared, screaming his fear as he felt his Chosen struggle for breath, his body convulsing in a desperate attempt to rid itself of the medication he'd been given earlier. Van felt the shock of his hooves striking the ground; he could feel his Chosen as the boy fought for his life, and was pulled deeper and deeper into darkness. He flung out a mental line for Conrart and only just managed to catch him. He held the line firmly as something else dragged the boy further and further out of his reach.

Damn it! He'd only just found the boy! He refused to lose him to the Shadowlover's embrace!

_: Chosen, You must not surrender! :_

His words seemed to jolt his Chosen into action. He fought, struggling vainly against the enclosing darkness.


	10. in which conrart exspresses his feelings

Chapter 10: in which Conrart expresses his feelings with flying furniture.

Yozak sat lightly on the edge of Conrart's bed, having vacated his chair several hours ago. It had been three days and while Conrart's fever had broken, he had yet to stir from his drug induced stupor. For the most part Yozak hadn't moved, though Heralds Teren and Dirk had managed to get him to spend an hour with his Companion daily, strengthening the bond between them. He worried over his friend near constantly, never straying far from his side, even during his hour with Jissa; he flat out refused to go any further then a few feet outside of Conrart's window. He was well aware that his actions were likely fueling any number of rumors, however they'd weathered rumors on several occasions before, usually after one or the other was injured in the line of duty.

It had taken the combined efforts of Heralds Talia and Teren, in addition to Jissa to get him to leave his friend's side long enough for the deer like Dyheli, to give him the language of Valdemar. He had to admit it was worth the splitting headache to be able to understand the people around him without having to resort to Mindspeech, which was just a little too intimate to be used for the purposes of something as mundane as discovering what's for lunch, with anyone barring Conrart that is. Although, now that he thought about it, bespeaking Jissa was just as natural as bespeaking Conrart.

Conrart stirred in his sleep and Yozak felt a wave of contentment wash over him. He smiled as he gently brushed his friend's hair out of his face, wondering just what Conrart was dreaming about. This was the first time in days that he felt contentment rather than fear from his friend, and he was glad the night terrors that had plagued him since before the war had subsided at last! Those night terrors were the reason Conrart still curled up with him at night. His friend had once confessed that he felt safe with Yozak, and that his mere presence was usually enough to keep the 'monsters' at bay, but that if it wasn't he trusted him to keep him safe. He'd been both amused and alarmed at Conrart's choice of words, particularly since that had been last year.

Conrart shifted closer to him as he slept, cuddling up against his leg. He smiled slightly and gently ruffled his friend's hair. Conrart had regained some of his color this morning and Yozak was glad that the vomiting had passed. Conrart had spent the better part of his first day in the House of Healing, in the rescue position after his body objected to the drugs Gisela had given him. Only his need to be near his friend had stopped him from finding a way back to Shin Makoku and traumatizing Gisela for her stupidity! After the third time in under an hour that Conrart had vomited, Healer Dolan had been forced to brace Conrart's left arm and shoulder, and roll him onto his side to prevent his choking!

Yozak was mildly disgusted by the realization that these people were giving Conrart better care than he'd ever gotten. It had only been three days, yet Conrart's arm and shoulder were almost as good as new, thanks to the careful care of the Healers of Valdemar. According to Jissa, the healers were healing his friend in short bursts so that they didn't over tax their gifts or Conrart's body, since the energy required for a healing came from both the healer and the patient. In the past when Conrart was injured he'd only been healed enough that he'd live through the experience! After that they'd let his body do the rest, Gisela at least usually gave him medicines to deaden the pain. Other healers didn't even bother.

They were half-breeds, they didn't have feelings!

It was odd—they had a half-breed king, and Yuri had done much to improve the relationship between the Mazoku and the Human-tribe. Yet half-breeds were still considered second class citizens, or worse. But at least their lives were no longer as horrible as they'd once been. At least they were no longer in danger of being murdered in the streets for their tainted blood.

Not in Shin Makoku at least!

Jissa interrupted his musings, her mental voice completely aghast. _: Your blood is not tainted! There is no such thing as tainted blood! So what if your mother was human and your father was a Mazoku? It means nothing Chosen; all that matters is the soul, the person within! :_

_: Thank you love, but you don't need to tell me that, and it's never stopped them from 'leashing mongrels'. : _He sent her a memory from his childhood, three bodies hanging from a tree, the youngest a child of about six_. : Just for the hell of it. Much as I hate to admit it, my world isn't perfect. We have prejudice and hatred, just like anywhere else. Yuri's a good kid, and he's doing his best to change things. Given time I'm sure he'll accomplish it. : _

He turned his attention back to Conrart, just as a girl in Trainee green entered the room. He sighed, recognizing his relief. The girl's name was Tara, and she came everyday at this time to watch over Conrart while he spent an hour with Jissa. He rose to his feet with the graceful economy of motion he'd built over the past century. After straightening his gray uniform shirt, he climbed gracefully out of the window and went to join his Companion in the afternoon sunlight. He settled himself down on the grass, leaning casually up against Jissa, as the mare curled up around him like he was a foal. They talked about everything and nothing. They talked about his childhood, and the work camp he'd been in before he met Conrart.

He was in a half-daze, feeling safe and warm against Jissa's flank, when a moist rag came flying through the window and struck him square in the face, just as a wave of pure terror washed over him.

"Conrart!" he yelled, springing to his feet and leaping back through the window.

~~~***~~~

Conrart shifted, wandering closer to a glowing warmth. He'd been cold far too long. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm. He'd spent far too much time cloaked in the darkness and shrouded in terror. He stepped lightly into the gray abyss shedding cloak and shroud like a leaf sheds water. He followed the shining spark of light and warmth fluttering about before him. His steps echoed eerily in the dark void around him, as the light beckoned him away from his own personal hell. Away from the screams of terror and pain that had ruled his life since he got there. Idly he wondered where Yozak was, why his friend hadn't chased away the monsters of his past as he always did.

Something told him the red-head was nearby. He could feel him; he always knew where Yozak was and what he was doing. But from the moment he first became aware of Yozak's presence lurking just beyond the darkness, he couldn't reach him! He could feel the man's worry, but he couldn't reach him!

He'd tried, he really had, flinging himself at the hellish monsters of his past, trying vainly to escape their clutches without Yozak's aid. He wanted, NEEDED to find Yozak! He wanted to help him, to sooth away the worry, to make Yozak feel safe and contented like the other man always made him feel.

Yet his struggles were in vain, he couldn't escape the clinging darkness; every time he fought his way free, something pulled him back, back into the past, back to the pain and the terror!

Then the light had come.

He could still hear his own cries, his own agony, and his terror. But they couldn't touch him now. That speck of light and warmth had wrapped itself firmly around his very soul, calming him, comforting him, pouring into him like water into his parched soul, and gently disentangled him from the pain and the terror of his past. It blanketed him in love, and a soothing calming presence he knew he could trust with anything. It seemed so old and wise, yet young and free at the same time! Somehow he knew it would forgive him anything, fight beside him, and stand protectively over him against anything! It loved, cared, and wanted him to be safe and happy. It didn't care about tainted blood, or his lack of Maryoku, or that his odd gifts gave him a strange view of the world. It didn't think him crazy for the voices he couldn't control, and it … no… he knew how much the voices _HURT_, and wanted to help but first he beckoned him forward, needing him to walk into the light!

Conrart went, and went willingly, following in the light with an ease and a trust he hadn't felt for anyone barring Yozak for a very long time. The world around him opened up into a dreamscape he'd seen many times before. It was a dream he'd been having since the very first days of his gifts. He closed his eyes briefly and looked up at the small fluttering point of light. A light which he now realized was – of all things – a butterfly. He stepped into the light at the edge of his vision and leaned quietly up against the strong trunk of an old tree, cedar by the smell of it, and watched the vision unfold before him with a heavy heart.

_He sat quietly on a log staring out into what looked like a meadow, if the waving field of green was any indication. At the very edge of his field of vision a wide river ran, and just beyond it roamed hundreds of white shapes. Horses, he realized mildly. He shifted quietly, watching a blurry apparition that ran across the field, chasing another apparition before the two converged on a butterfly and gave chase. He smiled lightly at their carefree behavior. The log shifted slightly and he turned his attention away from the frolicking phantoms. Yozak had joined him, clad all in white. Conrart felt content as he pulled a leaf off of the surface of his own white clothing. Shifting closer to his friend, he turned his gaze back to the field, when a slight movement caught his eye. _

_A leaf tumbled through the sky, to land in Yozak's bright hair. It looked for all the world like an ornamental hair pin. The leaf was accompanied by childish peals of laughter. _

The vision brought him both happiness and sorrow, because it could never come to pass. He loved Yozak, but he would never be allowed to have a life with the man. Their ranks were too different… not that it mattered anymore. After the incident with his former boyfriend and his three lackeys, Yozak wouldn't even want him. Nobody would. Truthfully he didn't even know if Yozak was into men. He didn't even really know if he was into men!

He liked Yozak, had always liked Yozak. From the moment he was old enough to he'd liked Yozak, and felt safe in the other man's arms. He'd also liked the occasional girl, and other boys often made him curious. He'd had a few crushes in his time. Crushes that had mostly been on girls, and one or two on other boys; however his feelings for Yozak had endured. They'd endured everything, even the mechanisms of Lord Gwilherm and his three lackeys. It had endured past the point when he was unwilling to look at any man for anything other than distant friendship.

What he was seeing was nothing short of an unobtainable dream. For some reason, that hurt more than anything else.

The light fluttered in front of him, before taking the form of a man. Conrart blinked, and automatically reached for a sword he wasn't wearing. He looked down at his brown military uniform just in time to see it morph into a white cotton nightshirt that only just brushed his knees. He swore colorfully, his voice sounding so out of place amidst the high-pitched squeals of childish laughter, the calls of song birds, the trumpeting sounds of young horses, and the odd harmony of Yozak's laugh, mixing with his own. If not for the tree at his back, he'd have backed up several steps.

_:Easy, Easy, Chosen. You trusted me as the light; will you not trust me now? :_

Conrart cocked his head to the side, as the deep brass of the man's voice caressed his mind. He didn't care about the indignity of the pose; he was likely dead and in his own private hell anyway! He could see what he wanted and could never have. Yet in the distance he could still hear his own remembered cries of pain.

What the hell had Gisela given him, anyway? He was hearing horses talk, granted he'd been hearing that pigeon talk for years, however the thing was unusually loud, and animals were usually Yozak's forte. The horse, or rather the horse that kept insisting it wasn't a horse, had called him Chosen. It had to be the drug Gisela had forced him to drink, horses didn't have identity crises!

Did they?

He made a mental note to ask Yozak about it later.

_: Oh my poor confused Chosen, I am not now nor have I ever been a mere horse. : _

Conrart looked at the man; he was so confused. He used to wonder if the voices and the visions and randomly moving objects were heralding the coming of his own insanity. He'd foolishly allowed himself to believe that maybe it was all just a gift he had to learn to control when madness had failed to set in. He had thought he'd prepared himself for that eventuality, however now that he found himself staring at the strangely statuesque reality of his own insanity, he found he was terrified!

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slide down the tree trunk until he sat upon the grass swathed ground. Looking up at the man before him he was mildly surprised by the beauty and the fire in his undeniably human eyes. He'd never seen eyes that color on a member of the human tribe before. The man's eyes and hair were the color of burnished silver. He was clad all in white, from his boots to his tunic; even the embroidery on his clothing was white, though it was embellished in places with silver thread.

The man was a walking stain waiting to happen!

_:My name is Vanyel, Chosen.: _the man said quietly as he lowered himself to the ground beside Conrart. _:You are NOT going crazy. I really am here. Your gift is called Mindspeech. I know it seems like a curse right now, but it is a gift. Your godson, the king Yuri, had to learn to use his magic of his own accord. He had to learn to rule his gifts rather than let them rule him, am I right? :_

"Yes, but-"

_:You are a lot of things Chosen, but a coward is not one of them. Neither are you a madman. Answer this Chosen, what would happen to a young member of your race whose powers were allowed to grow to maturity without the benefit of training? :_

"Mass havoc," Conrart replied calmly, before adding. "And the child in question could accidently kill himself if the gift was formidable enough."

Vanyel reached out and placed one eloquent hand on Conrart's slim shoulders. _: In this case Chosen, you are the child in question. Your Heraldic gifts have been allowed to grow, with no one there to help you learn to rein them in. You have feared that the gift would drive you mad, and that is a legitimate fear, Chosen. However I am here to teach you what you need to know to keep that from happening. :_

~~~***~~~

They talked for what seemed like hours, though he had no idea how much time had actually passed. Conrart had soon found that no subject was taboo with Vanyel. The Companion, his Companion, told him about the Heralds and their Companions, explained what they did, and what it meant to be a Herald. Vanyel explained how Yuri had given him leave to go.

Even with the knowledge that Yuri had given him leave to go, had cared for him enough to let him go, Conrart was still sorry he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. In some ways he'd lost his family in one day, only to gain another in its place.

Somehow- and Conrart wasn't entirely sure how – he found himself cradled in Vanyel's arms. To his absolute astonishment he felt safe there. He leaned into the man's embrace, reveling in the feeling of Vanyel's hand carding through his hair, so similar to something Yozak would do, yet so very different as well. For one thing when Yozak did it, it sure as hell didn't feel brotherly or paternal!

Vanyel stood, carefully pulling Conrart to his feet as he did so. He took a step back and turned, reaching out with one hand to take a firm hold of the boy's chin.

_: It's time to rejoin the living, my Chosen. I'll be close by. : _Vanyel said quietly before he turned and walking off into the field, faded from Conrart's sight.

Abruptly he found himself back in his own body. His arm ached dully and he was cold. He whimpered and turned his head, trying vainly to open eyes that felt as if they'd been weighted with lead. Something soft and damp was working its way up the inside of his thigh in slow circles.

He was NAKED, and somebody was TOUCHING him!

Fear gave him strength he didn't know he possessed.

He opened his eyes.

A man loomed over him.

One of the man's hands lingered on his left shoulder.

The other was on his abdomen.

HE was definitely NOT Yozak!

There were three other people in the room with him, two of them were touching him, and none of them was Yozak!

He opened his mouth in a silent scream, and lashed out with that tightly wound force that lay coiled just below the surface of his being.

Vanyel had called it Fetching.

~~~***~~~

Yozak flung himself back into his friend's room, scrambling over the window ledge to land gracefully beside the bed. The room was a mess. Furniture was flying around the room, including bottles, medicines and anything not nailed to the floor. They flew in a wide arch around the bed and the huddled form of his best friend. A slight groan from the far corner of the room caught his attention, and he realized with an odd mixture of amusement and concern that Conrart had thrown Healer Dolan, Tara, and a male trainee he hadn't met yet clear across the room!

Judging by the rag that had hit him earlier and the flying bucket of water, he guessed that Dolan had attempted to do something he'd advised him not to! Conrart never had appreciated the subtle exercise in humiliation that was the sponge bath, and his reaction to it was usually quite spectacular. Although this particular episode was by far the worst out of the three he'd seen to date. He reached for Conrart with his mind, only to find his friend locked in a whirlwind of his own terror, much like the one currently raging through the small room they were occupying.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't reach him – at least not mind to mind.

Cursing under his breath in his native tongue he fought his way to Conrart's side, only mildly surprised when a chair on a direct course for his face swerved to the side at the last possible second. He'd always known Conrart would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. This just proved it!

"Conrart," he called, trying to keep the pitch of his voice low and soothing. "Come on Conrart, it's alright, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you here."

Conrart whimpered, and while the speed of the objects circling the room decreased, they didn't stop.

"Der'rik, go get Herald Talia. We need to calm him down." Dolan barked from his place on the floor. Trainee Der'rik was much closer to the door then Healer Dolan, or his daughter Tara. He rose slowly to his knees and scrambled out the door.

Yozak dismissed the boy as irrelevant, and continued his trek towards his friend. It only took him a minute to reach Conrart and gather him into his arms. But it felt like an eternity. He held his friend, whispering soothing words, and stroking his hair. He pulled the thin sheet up to cover Conrart's slim hips. Slowly Conrart began to calm down, and the larger pieces of flying furniture began to fall to the floor.

Finally, the last of the objects fell from the sky, and Conrart sagged against his chest in an exhausted heap. His energy completely spent. Yozak continued to stroke his hair as Conrart relaxed against him. Dolan and Tara picked themselves up off the ground just as Talia came into the room, with Der'rik hard on her heels. The analytical part of his mind noted them, before dismissing them all as less than a threat, though he marked Talia's movements, as his instincts warned him of her potential to become one.

He cradled Conrart in his arms, well aware of the fact that his friend was trembling. In reaction to the colossal amount of energy he'd just burned through, not from fear. He carded a hand through the younger man's hair, whispering to him in the language of the Demon Tribe. Slowly the shaking stopped and Conrart's breathing evened out. Barring the incident three days ago aside, it had been a very long time since he'd seen his normally unshakable friend this panicked.

He glanced down at where Conrart currently had his nose buried in his gray clad chest, which was quite a feat considering the difference in their heights was just under four inches. He noted that the younger man's eyes were closed, and for a moment thought he may have fallen asleep again. However, the rhythm of his breathing was all wrong for that. He shifted his position slightly in the hopes of supporting Conrart a little more.

"Yozak?"


	11. Chosen

AN. All facts concerning companions and Valdemar are the general consensus of all of Mercedes Lackey's Heralds of Valdemar series, the part about the companion's age when Choosing comes from the second book Mercedes Lackey ever wrote entitled Arrows Flight. Also in Owl's flight Daran (who's all of 10 ) knows about heralds having the option of coming back as a future herald or as a Companion. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused. In addition Vanyel didn't bother changing his name because he didn't feel like it, and we figured that after spending the better part of 6 centuries with that name …. Well you get the point.

Anywho on with the story… R&R the kitty likes reading them and it gives the pirate something else to do… trust me you don't want the world to be ruled by her, OCD you know.

Pirate: That's CDO damn it! I swear I don't drink enough rum to deal with you were-creatures.

Chapter 11: Chosen

Talia watched quietly as Trainee Yozak took care of his panicked friend. Idly she wondered just what had set the boy off. She slipped quietly from the room and grabbed one of the long linen shirts the patients in the House of Healing normally wore. Trainee Conrart was obviously uncomfortable with being naked in public, and having something to wear would go a long way towards calming the boy down.

She slipped back into the room and brushed past Healer Dolan and his two Trainees. She set the long white Nightshirt on the edge of the bed and reached for Conrart's mind, attempting to sooth his volatile emotions with her Empathy. To her immense surprise, Conrart turned, glared at her out of sharp brown, silver flecked eyes, and snapped something sharply in his own tongue.

Yozak's ears turned red briefly before he turned and met her eyes. "The polite version of that would be 'Get the hell out of my head, before I throw you out!' I'd listen to him by the way; Conrart is rarely rude, and I haven't heard him swear in years."

Conrart carefully pulled the shirt over his head, and Talia felt his tension ease. She listened to the quiet tenor of his voice as he spoke to Yozak in his own tongue. She understood nothing of their language although occasionally she'd hear a word she understood. She'd defiantly heard Yozak say the word 'Valdemar' on several occasions, his slight accent coloring the word and showing mostly on the inflection. Twice she heard a word that sounded like Yuri or Yurri or Yuuri, she didn't know what the word meant, but she could guess by the inflection that it was a noun. Another word she caught and judged to be important by both the inflection and the force behind the word was 'Shin Makoku'.

Eventually Conrart said something she did understand; the inquiry was undeniable, even if 'Vanyel' was accented strangely.

It took the better part of a candle-mark to convince Healer Dolan to allow Conrart to go outside and spend a little bit of time with the Companion that would soon be his, but somehow she and Yozak managed it. She didn't know why but something about both of the new Trainees put her guard up. Yozak was charming and sweet in a blunt fashion, yet she'd just seen the young man lead Healer Dolan around by his nose until he thought what Yozak wanted was something of his own devising. In that regard, he put her in mind of Skif. As for Conrart, she could see several soul deep scars in the boy that had yet to heal, but there was a charity and compassion in those, odd, hard, brown eyes that spoke of the reason why he'd been Chosen. However, there was also a shrewd and cunning intelligence, which put her in mind of Alberich and Kero.

She watched as Yozak scooped his friend up into his arms, and reached for her bond to Rolan. As always the stallion wasn't far from her thoughts. He rose to the surface of her mind with a feeling of ancient wisdom and curiosity. She sent him an image of Yozak cradling Conrart in his arms as he walked calmly down the hall, followed by the image of young Companion Vanyel. Hard on the heels of that she sent him the image of the Dyheli stag, Talden, who represented his people at the council, and another image of Conrart, along with a feeling of confusion and inquiry. She also sent him an image of Elspeth.

She pulled herself back into the moment and continued down the hall, content in the knowledge that Rolan had understood her request, and that by the end of the hour at least, they would have bridged the rather large language gap between Conrart and the rest of the circle. Elspeth was undoubtedly the best person to give him the language, having been brought up around the most 'proper' version of it. She'd been the one called on to give Yozak the language as well, since at the very least it kept the two off-world trainees from having to go through speech lessons or anything else of the sort.

She didn't think they needed that, they had enough to deal with just adjusting to what had to be the most profound bit of culture shock anyone had ever gone through! In the short time since young Conrart had awakened she'd realized two things: one, however he knew Yozak, he trusted the man completely. And two, there was a somewhat distinctive difference in the nuances of their speech. It could have been something as simple as the differences in dialects, but there was just something about the way the man spoke, something about the quiet authority in his voice and demeanor, even when he was cowering against his friend … that spoke of the higher nobility.

~~~***~~~

Yozak set Conrart on his feet, in the cool grass outside the House of Healing. Conrart wobbled briefly, his knees almost buckling under his weight. He flinched slightly as his friend's nails dug into his bicep, as the smaller man steadied himself. Conrart clung to him for dear life, until he got his feet back under himself, then he straightened, the very image of princely pride, his chin held high. He stood still for a moment, before starting forward. He staggered slightly but held himself with all the dignity he could muster as he attempted to reach Vanyel. The stallion walked forward, and carefully stretched out his neck to Conrart.

Conrart stopped in his tracks, an arm's length from the Companion, and Yozak saw his friend stiffen, before his shoulders sagged in the closest thing to a slouch Conrart had ever allowed himself. To anyone else it would have looked like nothing more than an unfortunate display of bad posture, but to Yozak, it showed the depth of Conrart's weariness and concern, his exhaustion, and his uncertainty. He readied himself to go to Conrart's side, to offer what comfort and familiarity he could, when Conrart reached out tentatively with his right hand. Conrart hesitated, his hand frozen in the air as if it stopped moving of its own accord. Vanyel solved that problem though, by stretching out his neck again, until his nose touched the palm of Conrart's hand.

The change was instantaneous; all of Conrart's worry, and uncertainty vanished, and before Yozak even had a chance to fully grasp the change, Conrart flung himself forward in a very unprincely fashion, and buried his face in the stallion's mane, his arms around the Companion's proudly arched neck.

The shove of a velvety nose against his own shoulder drew his attention away from his friend to Jissa, who stood calmly at his side. He smiled, and gently rubbed her soft nose.

~~~***~~~

Conrart had been completely confused when he _felt_ Vanyel. Vanyel to him was the man he'd met in his dream, and seeing that proud silver eyed man in the body of a proud blue eyed stallion was somewhat disconcerting! He sensed Vanyel's amusement at his thoughts as the Companion moved closer to him. He'd marveled not at the simple sentence Vanyel had spoken into his mind despite the fact that he knew he would never forget the words he'd spoken. Somehow _: I Love You Conrart, I am Vanyel and I Choose you.: _had been branded into his memory as boldly as if they'd used a hot iron. The love and the warmth that had accompanied that sending had wrapped around him like a fluffy blanket on a chilly night.

He'd reached for Vanyel without thinking, only to freeze the second he'd realized what he was doing. Experience had taught him, this was simply too good to be true. Things like this didn't happen, not to people like him. He was half human, and half demon, hated by both and trusted by neither, and nothing he could do would ever change that!

Stoffel had been the first to teach him that. It was a lesson Lord Gwilherm, and his friends, Lords Lodewijk, Bhaltair, and Boudewijn, had taken great pains to teach him, rather violently for that matter. A lesson the war, and Belar had reinforced; a lesson Wolfram, his precious baby brother, continued to teach him, and a lesson people continued to remind him of every time he foolishly gave them the chance!

Good things simply didn't happen to half-breeds.

For his kind, finding people who actually took the time to judge you for you, and not your mixed blood was a rarity … but then so was surviving into adulthood. As rare as it was to find an adult half-demon, it was even rarer not to find them doing the work no one else was willing to do, or worse in a brothel!

He and Yozak were the lucky ones. Surely _THIS _was _too good _to be true!

Vanyel simply pushed his muzzle into his palm. _: I will never hurt you Chosen, blood and pedigree mean nothing to me. I will never leave you, and anyone who tries to hurt you again will have to do so around my flying hooves! : _

He collapsed onto Vanyel's strong shoulder, hiding his face in his soft, silky mane. Princely pride be damned! He let himself go, gave everything up, and for the first time in a little more than half a century, he allowed somebody in, past the walls he'd built up around his heart and soul to protect himself. He felt Vanyel flowing down the path he'd opened for him, weaving his way into every nook and cranny of his very existence, picking up the shattered pieces of his nearly broken spirit before knitting them together with bits of his own soul until for the first time in years he felt some semblance of being whole and clean! That wasn't all he felt. The smothering press of minds against his own vanished as Vanyel brought his own shields around him.

For the first time in thirty years, he was completely alone in his mind. The relief was almost thick enough to plow.

For one long second he panicked at the loss of his connection to Yozak, only to have Vanyel calmly show him the thin thread of energy that was his connection to his best friend. He caught hold of that line of energy and tugged, successfully reestablishing a deeply rooted connection he felt utterly naked without. That connection had been a part of him since Yozak hit puberty almost seventy years ago. It had only grown and strengthened over the years.

Frankly, he didn't think he could function properly without it.

Rather abruptly he then realized something_: You're little more than a colt! : _he gasped.

Vanyel's mental voice was laced with a crisp feeling of amusement, which put him in mind of fresh air and ripe apples. _: I have seen five winters in this form Chosen, were I a horse I would be a stallion. Normally we don't Choose before we have seen at least ten winters, but your pain and distress called me to you now. :_

Conrart felt horrible. If what Vanyel said was true, then he had effectively stolen the colt's childhood. When he apologized for it however, Vanyel dismissed it, informing him in no uncertain terms that not a single Companion on the Field had ever truly been a child; they had all chosen to come back to this world with their knowledge of their past selves intact, in order to Choose the next generation of Heralds more effectively. He may have worn the form of a colt, but he was not one.

He still felt bad but he had to admit that the knowledge took a great deal of the sting out of his conscious. The fact that Van assured him he would have Chosen him anyway in five years time, put him at ease for some unknown reason and he patted Van's velvety shoulder.

His languor vanished as quickly as it had appeared as a woman astride a pure white Companion mare came into his field of view_._

_: Princess Elspeth and her Companion Gwena:_ Vanyel informed him lightly.

He shifted his stance, so that he stood beside Vanyel, his back straight, shoulders squared, and his chin raised just enough to display his stubbornness and pride, without appearing arrogant. Conrart was the picture of serenity, pride and authority and he was fully aware of it. He was a prince even if most people forgot that fact. He was used to people treating him with disregard and disrespect while fawning over one or the other of his brothers, for their ranks and titles alone.

It didn't matter; he was still a prince in his own right, and the former captain of King Yuri's guard, in addition to a noted war hero, and he would conduct himself accordingly. He did his level best to appear as calm and confidant as he always portrayed himself to be. A feat that was made more difficult by his wobbling knees, he wished he had something he could lean against without losing some of his dignity. To his surprise Vanyel paced forward slightly, coming to stand just a little bit ahead of him.

_: You can lean on me, my proud Chosen, to a Herald the action would be seen as being as natural as breathing. :_

He took Vanyel at his word and leaned into the Companion's shoulder; at the moment, just standing was taking far more energy than it should have. How long had he been unconscious for anyway?

Vanyel answered his unasked question, sending him a steady stream of energy as he did so. _: It's been three days since we returned to Valdemar, Chosen, and you were out for three days before that, so that makes it a total of about six days. : _

Conrart resisted the urge to curse at that little tidbit of information. He closed his eyes briefly, well aware of the fact that he was going to have to sit down soon, or he'd run the risk of falling down. Then behind Elspeth and Gwena, he noticed what had to have been the strangest looking stag he'd ever seen. Its head was too broad, its eyes slightly too large and too far forward, and its head was crowned with long curving horns. Its hide was also a distinctive creamy white and beige color.

Idly he wondered what the thing was and why it seemed to have no fear of people. Again, Vanyel answered his unvoiced question, telling him that the creature was actually the Dyheli stag Talden. He also informed him that they were a sentient species, with a powerful gift of mind-magic, and that this particular stag had come with the intentions of helping to bridge the language gap between him and everyone else on this world baring Yozak.

Apparently it was a procedure that Yozak had already undergone. According to Vanyel, Talden would take the knowledge of the language from Herald–mage Elspeth, and use it to build up the knowledge of the language in Conrart's mind so that by the time the stag had finished, he would be able to speak the language as if he had been born with it. The only side effect would be an unfortunate headache.

Vanyel also informed him that if he was willing, Talden would reverse the process and give Herald Elspeth and Herald Talia the same command of the demon tongue. He hated to admit it, even if it was only to himself, but the idea scared him. However he had done numerous things in his relatively short life, which had scared him to the point that he wanted nothing more than to hide in his mother's arms. Yet he'd done them all, with his chin held high and his back straight. He cowered before no man (the events of this morning not withstanding), and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now, even if this one bore the shape of a deer.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, and gave Vanyel his consent.

~~~***~~~

Conrart groaned, as he came back to himself, his head was killing him! Abruptly he realized he was on the floor, his head pillowed against something warm. Soft fur brushed his cheek, and the distinctive scent of horse permeated his nostrils, accompanied by an oddly sweet scent he didn't recognize. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. It took him a moment to realize what he was lying up against was in fact Vanyel. The Stallion was curled up around him like a mare around a foal.

"Hurt's don't it?" Yozak piped up from somewhere to his left, his voice far too perky for Conrart's liking.

Conrart moaned, if he had something in his hand he would have thrown it at his friend. "You are enjoying this far too much." He retorted into the plush pillow that was Vanyel's shoulder. Rather abruptly he realized that Yozak had spoken Valdemaran, not their native tongue, and that he had answered in the same.

He blinked in mild surprise, and wondered if this was how Yuri felt when he'd suddenly started speaking the language of the Demon tribe.

"Interesting, isn't it? It's like I was born here, and I have to tell you switching back and forth between Valdemaran and Mazoku-jin is actually very easy." Yozak stated.

Conrart buried his face in Vanyel's flank with a groan. He was well aware of the fact that he likely looked like a child, and honestly didn't give a damn! Yozak's deep chuckle penetrated the fog of his pain, and he felt his friend's hands come to rest on his head. The headache began to melt away as Yozak put his talented fingers to work, gently massaging his temples and his neck. He moaned, this time in pleasure. After a few minutes, Yozak pulled away, and patted his shoulder lightly.

"Can he stay out here with Vanyel, or do you want me to carry him back into the room he's been using?" Yozak asked quietly.

Conrart recognized the voice that answered as the healer who'd been in the room with him earlier, the one who'd scared the living daylights out of him when he'd first woken up. This was the same Healer he'd accidently thrown across the room.

_: Dolan, Chosen, his name is Healer Dolan. You can trust anyone wearing the uniform of Herald or Healer.: _

At Vanyel's reassurance he allowed himself to drift, finding that hazy spot somewhere between asleep and awake. He closed his eyes and snuggled into Vanyel's flank without a care in the world.

~~~***~~~


	12. a new life

A.N. This week was finals week, so I didn't have time to write or edit the chapter for next week, so there may be some delays.

Chapter 12: a new life.

Talia smiled as she walked down the hall at a brisk pace. She nodded to the two guards stationed outside the door to Selenay's office. Walking past them, she pulled open the door and entered the room. The room was plain, wood paneled, and furnished with comfortable chairs and an old scarred desk. Selenay sat quietly behind her desk, massaging the bridge of her nose, as she went over a rather long document in front of her. The Queen acknowledged Talia's presence with a brief nod of her head.

Talia took a few steps forward to put herself at the distance custom and tradition demanded, before dropping to her knees. "Majesty, I have come to petition the right of a Trainee to enter the Collegium." She said quietly.

That got Selenay's attention, "Which Companion has Chosen, and what is the name and rank of the Trainee in question?" the Queen asked, looking up from her paperwork.

Talia smiled, "The Companion Vanyel has Chosen, and the Trainee in question is Lord Conrart Weller of Shin Makoku."

For one long moment Selenay seemed genuinely startled, and then she laughed, "Permission granted." She couldn't help being amused; somehow the fact that Vanyel had managed to Choose a noble from another world did not surprise her all that much.

The fact that Talia had come to petition his right to enter the Collegium told her the boy was also the only heir to his rank, title, or name and as such could not renounce them.

~~~***~~~

Yozak groaned as he made his way back to the House of Healing. Since Conrart had awakened earlier that morning, Heralds Talia, Elspeth, and Herald-Dean Teren had convinced him to start his own Heraldic training. Of course, Jissa had been instrumental in convincing him to leave his friend's side before Conrart was fully recovered. In some ways it was rather amusing; he'd never been nearly this overprotective of his friend in their own world.

Maybe the separation from everything he'd ever known had caused him to latch on to the only thing familiar. Or maybe seeing Conrart having a nervous breakdown before getting extremely ill and almost dying had scared him more then he truly wanted to admit.

He'd found himself in Teren's office shortly after Conrart had fallen back asleep, running a gambit of ridiculous written tests. From there he'd found himself promptly demoted to schoolboy. Teren had enrolled him in several classes: History, Geography, basic law, a hard riding class (to get him used to riding a Companion rather than a horse), Weapons, and something called Gifts on the advice of his own Companion. The Dean had told him that his classes would be moved and rearranged depending on his skill levels throughout the next two weeks, and had also informed him that his classes would be a mixed bag as far as ages were concerned.

He'd also assigned him a tutor to help him with his penmanship. The Dyheli may have been able to give him the language and the knowledge of how to read and write it, but be that as it may, they couldn't give his muscles the memory of how the letters were formed and frankly a monkey had better penmanship in Valdemaran then he did! Much to his embarrassment, he understood it but it was still somewhat humiliating.

He'd been mostly amused by the weapons class. He was proud to say he was one of very few people who could go up against Conrart in an honest to goodness sword fight and live to fight another day. He was under no illusions; his ego would be seriously dented, but he would most likely live. After all he wasn't above playing dirty. Then he'd met the supposedly retired Armsmaster Alberich! He was fairly certain that Conrart would win in a fight between the two. As for himself, he'd held his own, but Alberich, like Conrart, had defeated him.

His ego smarted a bit after that.

He pulled open the door to Conrart's room, expecting to find his friend about ready to climb the walls, since the healer had ordered the man to stay in bed for the rest of the day.

Conrart didn't disappoint.

He found his friend, determinedly pacing the length of the little room. Yozak snorted and leaned against the wall, watching the younger man pace. Vanyel stood looking in the window, and from the looks of it was trying vainly to persuade his Chosen back into his bed.

"Aren't you suppose to be in bed, Captain?" he asked impertinently in their native language. "Healer's orders, remember?"

Conrart paused briefly in his imitation of a caged lion and retorted mildly. "You should know; I never listen to healers."

"Well, that explains the irate young Healer I passed in the hallway." He said flippantly. "I've known you for almost 12 decades, and somehow I keep forgetting that you're as stubborn as a century old mule and just as set in your ways. You look after everybody's health and happiness, but your own. Don't you think it's time you looked after yourself, Captain?" he watched his friend closely as he turned down the covers.

Conrart sighed and climbed back into bed, eyeing him critically. "Are you –quite-alright?" he asked after a moment, catching hold of his wrist.

Yozak suppressed the urge to groan.

That was Conrart speak for 'Why are you limping?', and the tone of his voice informed him that he wasn't going to drop the subject. The young prince was like a terrier sometimes, tenacious and refusing to let go once he'd sunk his teeth into something. He might as well just tell him- it was easier for all involved that way.

In the back of his mind he could hear Jissa snigger.

"I got my ass handed to me by an old man with a practice blade." He said finally, pulling the covers up around his friend.

Conrart leaned back against the pillows, ignoring the fact that he was fussing. "Let me guess, you left your outside low-line open . . . again!" he said, with a knowing look in his eyes.

Yozak sighed, "The bout lasted about an hour before I got sloppy. I hate to admit it but that man is good. Makes my old weapons master look like a novice, in fact; the only person ever to give me that good of a workout with a sword is you. I don't think he's as good as you are with a blade, but he's as good as I am with a knife, and the man wouldn't leave me be until I'd demonstrated my proficiency with every single weapon I said I could wield, from the darts to my knives to the sword. Though he didn't – quite—know what to make of my Garrote."

Conrart sighed, "As I recall neither did you when I first gave it to you."

"It's not that I didn't know how to use it," Yozak replied firmly. "I was just surprised that you -my oh-so proper prince - even knew what one was. That and I was kind of surprised that you of all people would be devious enough to sharpen the inside of a metal wire so that the thing could not only be used to choke but to cut as well."

Conrad snorted, "Whoever accused me of being too proper to think like a warrior was sadly mistaken." He replied mildly.

Yozak couldn't help it; he laughed aloud at that, remembering how a much younger Conrart had practically cornered him and asked him to teach him how to use a knife after his teachers had refused to teach him to wield one. They simply stated that he –as a prince- didn't need to know how to use one; ironically those same teachers had seen no reason to deny Gwendal the same training when he'd asked for it. Conrart's words had been phrased as a request, but there had been no denying the command in his voice.

He'd done his best to teach his friend how to use a knife, however at the time he'd only just been learning to use one as well. Yozak turned out to be a natural with a knife. In fact he was as gifted with a knife as Conrart was with a sword. Sadly, he'd been unable to teach the subtle art he'd only just begun to learn to his friend. Conrart's skills with a knife extended far enough that he didn't kill himself while wielding one, and in a pinch could hold his own against a relatively unskilled opponent, but beyond that he was utterly hopeless!

Alberich seemed to be quite gifted with a knife; maybe he could successfully unteach Conrart some of the things Yozak had unwittingly taught him.

Conrart shifted quietly in his bed, looking distinctly uncomfortable, before turning almost pleading brown eyes on him. "I-", he stopped unable to finish, his cheeks burning.

He didn't have to finish; Yozak knew exactly what he wanted. Without a word, he pulled his gray tunic over his head and tossed it onto the chair he'd previously occupied. His boots soon followed. Then with the delicate grace earned from nearly 30 years as a spy, he settled himself into bed between Conrart and the wall. He shifted slightly, getting comfortable before drawing his friend down to rest against his chest. Conrart sighed, and - for lack of a better term – cuddled up against him.

He chuckled lightly, and began carding his fingers through Conrart's mahogany locks, watching in mild amusement as the tension fled his friend's body. Conrart was a kind and gentle man, but he was also very proud, in addition to being a lion on the battlefield. He did not, and in fact never had, handled being ill very well.

The man was utterly incapable of being treated like an invalid with any amount of grace.

Normally when Conrart was ill he raided the palace library and read anything he could get his hands on. Consequently he'd read more of the library's books then even Gunter had. The term bookworm was without a doubt one of the most accurate terms he could think of in regards to his friend. Fortunately, Conrart didn't take ill often; barring injury in the line of duty, the last time Conrart had been ill had been three years ago. He'd caught a mild case of the cold that had been running through the barracks, and promptly turned it into a bad case of pneumonia when he failed to acknowledge it, and continued to work, taking Princess Greta to visit Hube, Nicola, and baby El under Yuri's orders.

The Young Maoh had wanted his daughter safe on the journey, and at the time Conrart had been showing no signs of a cold, save a mild headache. Then Belar had somehow managed to grab Yuri out from under the eyes of Wolfram and two other guards. The megalomaniac had made his demands clear after his guards had trounced an infuriated Wolfram, with the clever application of a Houseki. Belar had wanted a trade, Yuri's life in exchange for Conrart, delivered to him, alone, unarmed, and bound in chains. He'd given them less than a fortnight to comply with his order or else they would find their monarch delivered to the palace door in a burial shroud.

He shuddered at the memory of finding his emaciated friend.

He'd been the agent Gwendal sent to retrieve Conrart, and he'd never forget his fear at returning from a mission to discover that Conrart had willingly made himself helpless, and allowed himself to fall into the hands of a psychopath. He'd been sent not because he was one of their best operatives (though that played a large part of it) but because as Gwendal put it "One way or another he could be trusted to bring Conrart home."

Neither of them truly expected him to be alive.

When he first found Conrart, he thought his friend was dead. He picked up what he assumed was Conrart's body and made his way free of the palace, determined to take his friend home. On his way out, he took his revenge on everything flammable he came across. Eventually, he ran into Belar. He relieved the maniac of his right eye, and burned the right half of his face and his left shoulder (among other places) with the torch he'd been holding. He'd have gone for his sword but that would have meant putting Conrart down, and that he hadn't been willing to do, so he used the torch as a weapon. It wasn't until he escaped the castle and vanished into the surrounding city's slums when he realized something.

Dead things did not bleed!

Conrart, limp over his shoulder, with a faint but highly unflattering blue tinge to his lips, was bleeding.

Sluggishly.

But bleeding none the less!

He'd taken his friend to the nearest inn and gotten him cleaned up. After that, he made his way to the coast with a comatose Conrart in his arms, under the cover of darkness. He met up with Gisela in Caloria, and nearly had a heart attack when the Healer had informed him that Conrart was not likely to survive the night.

Conrart had survived the night and awoken a week later, but his mild cold had turned into a full blown case of pneumonia.

Conrart was too stubborn to die then and had been too stubborn to die earlier in the week. Now, just like then, the problem was keeping Conrart in bed long enough for him to heal. That meant keeping Conrart from getting bored.

Easier said than done

The last time Conrart had been ill, he'd been trapped in bed with pneumonia, broken ribs and an ankle Gisela had been forced to re-break since it had already begun to heal wrong. The man had proceeded to read his way through the R section of the palace library. Gwendal had taken to stopping by his little brother's room every evening and playing strategy games with Conrart, before even that failed to hold his interest. Finally Yuri had found something that held Conrart's attention for the remaining three weeks of his incarceration. The young king had kidnapped his brother's old university textbooks, a copy of something called _Gray's Anatomy_, and several complete book series. According to Conrart, one of them was the _Clan of the Cave Bear_.

Obviously this time he didn't have all of that available to him, but thankfully Conrart was not going to be bedridden with torture induced injuries for more than 2 months. Yozak had already begun his classes, but he could always go and get the books. He could read one while Conrad read another. It was a good idea—he just had to make sure he got his book back before class the next day!

~~~***~~~

A.N. Houseki - a stone used by human magic users to control and focus their magic (not the same as a focus stone, humans need them to work the magic. The power can only be accessed with the stone) (these stones are painful for demons to be around)

~~~***~~~

A.N. This week was finals week, so I didn't have time to write or edit the chapter for next week, so there may be some delays.


	13. and a new friend

Chapter 13: And a new Friend

Yozak was actually enjoying himself; lounging in bed with a book was not something he'd had the leisure to do often – even if the bed wasn't his own. Curling up in bed with Conrart wasn't a novelty; he did it every time he was home. However, the weight of Conrart's head resting against his chest as the two read was comforting. It just felt right, like this was how things were meant to be. He shifted slightly, draping his arm across his friend's shoulders.

He had to admit law was an interesting subject. In Shin Makoku, the laws were different—or one thing murder was murder, and there was no distinction between premeditated murder and simple murder. Yet in Valdemar, there seemed to be several ways that killing someone was handled under the law. Another difference was in the way the many different species were treated in Valdemar. He was amazed to discover that killing a sentient being in Valdemar was treated the same whether or not the person in question was a human being.

_: Why does that surprise you, Chosen? : _

Yozak sighed, not particularly happy with the conversation he'd unwittingly started. _:Because, although it is illegal to murder a human or a demon, until recently murdering a half-breed had no punishment unless somebody felt the need to argue their death, and prove the worth they had to the crown. At which point their murder was handled more on the basis of the theft of their services to the crown then on the fact that a person had been murdered. Yuri found out about that archaic law last year and changed it. He was the first Maoh to handle the murder of a half-breed the same way he would have handled the murder of a full blood demon.: *_

He could feel Jissa's horror at that confession, and it reminded him of Yuri's response to the law after the murder of a young half-breed had brought it to light. He also remembered Conrart breaking his right pinky finger after he punched the wall.

_: At least your King Yuri had the courage and sense of justice to change the law. : _She said after a moment.

Whatever he would have said to that was cut off by a jolt of pain as Conrart fell asleep against his shoulder. His borrowed book slipped from sleep slackened fingers, to land spine down in Yozak's lap. He gasped as the book's hard spine hit a rather tender portion of his anatomy. He'd say this for Conrart—even asleep the man had impeccable aim! It took every ounce of his will power not to start swearing like the lowborn soldier he was.

He was so preoccupied with the pain lancing up his body that he failed to notice the young man in the doorway until he spoke.

"That looked painful," the man said in a deep baritone.

Yozak turned his head slightly and scrutinized the young man in front of him. He looked to be somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two. Pitch black hair only just brushed his shoulders, and green eyes sparkled with mischief. He was larger than Conrart, but not nearly as built as Yozak. He wore nothing but a long nightshirt, of the same cut and cloth as the one Conrart currently wore. It marked him as a patient in the House of Healing. From the whisper in the back of his mind that was his beloved Companion Jissa, he knew the man was called Tykir. She also told him that Tykir was Chosen of Companion Rhandal.

"It was," Yozak said simply before adding "My Jissa tells me you are Tykir." When the man nodded, he continued. "I'm Trainee Yozak, and 'Mr. Impeccable Aim' here is Conrart."

Yozak watched quietly as Tykir walked into the room and perched himself calmly on the end of Conrart's bed. He was amazed Conrart didn't wake; the man was an absurdly light sleeper. It was a testament to both his exhaustion and his trust in Yozak.

"Ran tells me that we've had eight new trainees brought in since I started my three weeks here." Tykir said, his voice pitched low so that he didn't disturb the sleeping trainee. "It's good to finally meet some of them. So where are you from?"

~~~***~~~

Yozak was amazed at how easy it was to talk to Tykir. He sat there for a little over an hour just talking with the young man, with Conrart tucked up against his chest. Tykir it seems was the second eldest son of a traveling merchant. His entire family had traveled across the land, in caravans selling everything from dyes to exotic fabrics, spices, pottery, jewelry, weaponry, and even more exotic things like Griffin feathers. Apparently, the caravan had come to Haven for the summer fair five years ago. After a few days of work, the then fifteen year old Tykir had gone off with his younger siblings and several of his cousins to explore the city itself, and found himself staring up into a sea of infinite blue.

Apparently his grandmother had had more of a fit regarding his being Chosen then Yuri had had when Conrart was Chosen. But that was only because in the end Yuri had done what was best for his friend and let him go. She'd been furious at losing one of her grandsons. Tykir she'd lost to his Companion and the Heraldic Circle and much to her dismay she'd lost his younger brother Leon three years later to the Mage Collegium.

"What about you? My Randy tells me you aren't from Velgarth. So where are you from, and what is it like there?"

Yozak sighed; he wasn't – quite – sure how much to tell the young man.

He told him about Shin Makoku and about the two tribes that lived in their world. He also told him about how the two tribes had been in the middle of what pretty much amounted to a cold war since the beginning of their nation. He also told the young man about their boy king, and how Yuri had brought an end to the shadow of war that hung over their people by somehow doing what no Maoh since Shinou himself had managed, forming an alliance between the two tribes. He mentioned the Flybone Tribe, The Fishbone Tribe, and about the Dragon preserves. He also explained the substantial difference in the life spans of the two races, and the animosity that stemmed from that difference.

Abruptly the man snorted and gestured at Conrart curled up against his chest. Startled and a little annoyed, Yozak glanced down at his friend –

And almost laughed aloud!

Conrart had made a fist of his hand and managed to hook his index finger over the bridge of his nose.

He hadn't done that in more than seventy years!

Yozak was very well aware that from Tykir's point of view, it looked like Conrart was sucking his thumb, which was something he didn't think Conrart had ever done!

Rolling his eyes and grinning like a loon, he unhooked Conrart's finger from the bridge of his nose and tucked the offending appendage against the younger man's chest. He shifted Conrart, until he gently lowered the man to rest against the pillows. Carefully he rearranged the covers, tucking them up around his friend's slim shoulders. Brushing a strand of Conrart's hair away from his face, he lost himself briefly in memories of the past. He remembered the bright eyed little boy he'd met so many years ago.

The sweet boy, who'd taken an orphan nearly eight years his senior, under his wing and taught him how to read and write, and survive in the royal courts; he'd given his heart to that boy all those years ago. Nearly twelve decades later Conrart still had his heart; the only difference was that his own feelings were no longer as innocent as they'd once been. He remembered playing in the palace courtyards, he also recalled Gwendal yelling at Conrart to act according to his rank. Conrart had taught him how to love and trust after the death of his parents, and the pain he'd suffered at the hands of one son of the Belar line. In return, he taught Conrart how to play, and walk across rooftops, and he took great pride in the fact that he was one of very few people who ever saw Conrart smile. He was also the only person who could get Conrart grinning like an idiot, or doubled over in nearly manic laughter!

That was one of the advantages of being Conrart's childhood friend. Conrart let his guard down around him, enough to actually be Conrart.

Not Lord Weller, son of the late Dan Hiri Weller.

Not Captain Weller, of the Shin Makoku armed forces.

Not Conrad, godfather and personal guard of King Yuri.

Not Prince Conrart.

Just Conrart.

He was pulled back to the present by Tykir's voice. "Not that it matters between Heralds, but are you shaych?"

Yozak blinked, startled by the question. In Shin Makoku nobody cared about things like that. "I've never put much thought into the gender of my lovers; so long as they're willing, I don't care." He replied at last.

Tykir appeared to think about that for a moment before he replied, "I didna seek to affend ye," he said, picking up what some part of Yozak recognized as a trader's cant, a cant he'd likely lost years ago. "T'is merely the way ya act towards him. Ye be too familiar with him ta be naught but friends, yet Ye'r – You are not familiar enough with him to be old lovers. Ya ken?"

Yozak smothered a laugh at how flustered the young man had become—it was strange to think that this man was technically his age! It was also weird to know that in a year's time Tykir would be considered his senior. It was also kind of sad to think about the fact that the really young trainees he'd seen today would grow old and die before his very eyes while he remained young. He remembered his first 19 years among humans vividly. He remembered children who had been his friends shunning him almost as soon as his aging began to slow down; he remembered being 10 years old but looking like he was six. He remembered the work camp he and his mother had been forced into. He'd been sent there for his demonic blood and his mother because she had refused to leave him, and as such had been given the same death sentence. He also remembered watching his mother waste away from starvation.

Yet those memories, horrible as some of them were, were now little more than distant memories. He had spent some time in the Nameless Village among his own kind, but he had grown up with Conrart in the heart of Shin Makoku's capital city, where he had aged just like everyone else. He'd spent plenty of time among humans, thanks to his job, but they were not his people and in the end he always went back to his home, to Conrart, to his family.

"You didn't offend me. Conrart and I met when we were very little, we grew up together. Hell we once chased each other naked through an ornamental fountain! We're not lovers, we're just _very_ close." He told the young man in front of him.

A sleepy voice from the vicinity of his hip drew both of their attentions to Conrart. "I believe I told you that if you ever mentioned that incident again you'd regret it, Yozak." Conrart's threat was foiled by an ill timed yawn.

"Well, welcome to the land of the living, Captain Sleepy! Did you enjoy your nap?" Yozak asked, completely ignoring the threat.

Conrart sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand in a manner cutely reminiscent of a five year old! Yozak smiled, he was the only person who ever got to see Conrart when he woke up, and the only one who ever saw Conrart before 'The Captain' came out for the day! Idly, he wondered if Tykir could appreciate the significance of what he was getting a glimpse of. Conrart must have been A) really tired, or B) really comfortable with the young man's presence.

"You're lucky you're between me and the wall, or you'd be getting better acquainted with the floor." Conrart grumbled.

Yozak laughed, "You are just mad because I have the strategic advantage."

The younger man arched one delicate eyebrow, and mock scowled in a manner that closely resembled his elder brother's habitual expression. "I'd strike you, but that would take effort." Conrart retorted mildly, trying and failing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Careful captain, your face will freeze that way." Yozak replied, in his usual mocking manner, before adding flippantly. "Okay… if you really want to wrinkle -"

He flinched, overdramatically clutching at his 'wounded' arm, after Conrart swatted his shoulder lightly despite the 'effort' the action had required on his part. "Owwie!" he whined mockingly, "that's going to bruise."

Tykir just laughed.

The soft sound drew Conrart's attention. "Yozak, pray do me the honor of introducing me to your friend."

Yozak suppressed a flinch; he hated it when Conrart took that painfully proper tone with him. Perhaps it was because the brunette rarely did so? He sighed, recalled to his manners, "Conrart Herald Trainee Tykir, Tykir Herald Trainee Conrart." Turning his head he gave Conrart his cheekiest grin.

Conrart rolled his eyes. "Nice to meet you," he said calmly.

Wherever the conversation may have gone was interrupted by the appearance of a tall slim man in Healer Greens. The man gave them the same look Conrart's father had given them decades ago when he'd caught them giggling in their tent hours after dark. Yozak suppressed the urge to laugh at the man's words as he ordered them to bed like little boys. Tykir bowed to the healer's wishes, excusing himself to return to his room down the hall. Yozak paused briefly unsure whether or not he should return to the rooms he'd been assigned earlier, or stay with Conrart. As much as he wanted to stay, he also knew Conrart would not appreciate his fussing over him. Conrart was a proud man, and he hated being treated as if he was made from spun glass.

With a mental sigh he gathered his books, pulled on his boots, slung his new gray tunic over his arm, and excused himself from the room.

~~~_***~~~_

*based off of how adultery was treated before the 1900's. Adultery was actually a crime of theft. The murder of a surf on a lord's lands was treated in a similar manner until the 1600s in some countries.


	14. get out of my head damnit!

A.N. Read and review please.

Chapter 14: Get out Of My Head!!!!

Yozak suppressed the urge to sigh. History had _never _been one of his favorite subjects, and while Valdemaran history was interesting, it wasn't exactly the stuff of legends, at least not by his definition of the term. King Valdemar seemed like the kind of person he could see King Yuri becoming in the many years of his rule.

_: Could you pay attention? : _Conrart suddenly said into his mind. _: I can't concentrate on what Herald Elden is saying if your mind is wandering. It's a bit distracting.:_

Yozak jumped, mildly surprised by Conrart's presence in the back of his mind. _: Exactly how long have you been back there, Captain? : _He inquired mildly.

Conrart's reply was tinged with mild amusement. _: I joined you this morning for Basic Law, tried not to fall asleep when you were practicing your penmanship; did not –quite – manage it. Woke back up while you were at Weapons Practice—we will be working on your tendency to leave your lower outside line exposed! I slept through your Geography class – at least, I think it was geography. Your instructor lost me at White Foal Pass, and the fact that nothing grows there. And I came back just as Herald Elden started this lecture. Now pay attention so that I, at least, can learn something. : _

"Eavesdropping doesn't become you Teichou." Yozak replied mildly, not realizing he'd spoken aloud.

_: I'm not eavesdropping, I'm learning. Now hush, so that I can listen to the class.:_

"Sounds like eavesdropping to me." He mumbled.

He got the impression that Conrart was raising an eyebrow. _: Hush, you, before you get in trouble. : _

_: Me?!!! You're the one who started this. :_

_: Yes, but I'd like to see them prove that I'm hanging out in your mind: _Conrart retorted_._

Yozak sighed, and turned his attention back to his studies. He felt Conrart's presence in the back of his mind, now that he'd been alerted to it, and took comfort in the familiar sensation. He could feel Conrart's fascination at the subject matter and wondered just what his friend found so fascinating about the time before the founding of Valdemar.

Conrart always had been the intellectual type—there were times he rivaled even Günter for studiousness and the retention of completely useless facts. So he listened closely as his teacher talked, knowing Conrart was using his ears. He also knew that if he pestered Conrart enough, the other man would explain the lecture to him again in a manner that would hold his attention long enough for him to make sense of what, by his way of thinking, was completely useless information, and more dates than he really cared to memorize.

At last the class was over, ending with the 'birth' of the first Companions from the Grove and the founding of the Heralds themselves. In that at least he shared his former Captain's fascination. He gathered his books and rose lightly to his feet. He'd almost made it to the door when Elden's voice called him back.

"Yozak, a word, if you please." His tone made it clear that it wasn't a request. 

He suppressed the urge to cringe; straightening his back, he walked over to the Herald. He'd found over the years that he could get away with almost anything provided that he looked innocent, gave nothing away, and looked as if he had a job to do. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone ever knew when he and Conrart where in each other's minds.

With that in mind, he did his level best to look innocent and ignore Conrart's suppressed laughter, as it echoed across their joined minds. "Was there something you needed, Herald Elden?" he asked calmly.

The Herald looked him over; his blue eyes as sharp and perceptive as Gwendal's, yet there was a warmth in them which reminded him more of Conrart, despite the color. "Who were you talking to earlier? Your Companion wouldn't be interested in eavesdropping on this particular class; the Founding is common knowledge."

Well, there went that theory!

_: You're on your own with this one. : _Conrart said simply.

He snorted, feeling Conrart's mind pull away from his own. _: Oh gee, thanks Captain. How am I supposed to deal with this? :_

_: You're a spy. : _Conrart replied mildly._ : Improvise.: _

"Coward." He muttered in response to that, before turning his attention back to Herald Elden. He wondered just how much truth to put into his story. 'My friend, who was just released from the House of Healing and sent to his room to rest for the next week, is bored out of his mind—literally. And is eavesdropping on your class using my senses' seemed likely to earn him a one way ticket to _visit_ the Mind-healers! Years of spying had taught him never to lie flat out; anyone with any skill at reading body language would see straight through it. No, he knew the best way to weave a believable falsehood was to spin it through with a twisted branch of truth for support.

He put together a believable story in the time it took to blink, and was just about to respond to the Herald's question when Jissa intervened. He shifted his attention from Elden to Jissa with the same ease one usually equated with breathing.

_: Honesty is always the best policy among Heralds, Chosen. He won't think you've gone mad, and he won't rebuke you for it. Conrart wants to learn, there is no shame in that. You were simply allowing him to do so without his having to put his health at further risk. Neither of you will be in trouble for this. Simply tell the truth, Chosen. :_

Yozak blinked to refocus his eyes. With an audible sigh, he turned his attention back to Herald Elden. It was one thing to discuss Mindspeech with Conrart, or even to talk mind to mind with the few people he'd already spoken with. This, however, was different—he had to trust that this man would hear what he was saying about Mindspeech, and actually believe him. The mere thought pushed him out of his comfort zone! He sighed, and explained the situation to his teacher, including the fact that he hadn't really known Conrart was there until he'd let his mind wonder. To his immense surprise, Elden laughed.

"I'll speak to Dean Teren about testing your friend for placement in classes, and see if we can't get him a tutor or something." The man said lightly. After a moment he added, "And tell your friend I expect the assignment from him as well."

Yozak couldn't help it; he laughed aloud at the thought of the look on Conrart's face when he told him he had an assignment due along with the rest of the class. Like many intellectuals, the younger man enjoyed learning, but despised homework. In fact, Conrart despised all forms of 'busywork'. With a nod of understanding, he excused himself to his last class of the day. 'Gifts' he felt was sure to be an interesting subject.

~~~***~~~

Herald Elden sighed as he made his way down to the dean's office. He'd known Teren for years and this promised to be an interesting conversation. For the most part, Heraldic trainees who were admitted into the House of Healing immediately upon arrival at Haven were not tested –for gifts or classes – until they had fully recovered enough to actually attend classes. He was about to ask Teren to brave the wrath of the Healers by breaking that age old convention. But if the boy wanted to learn, enough to eavesdrop on his friend's classes, who were they to stand in the way of his academic curiosity?

Honestly, he really wanted to meet the boy Trainee Yozak had spoken of with such fondness. The red haired boy had a very interesting personality, and while it was apparent that he was fighting against what were probably social and cultural differences, the boy had yet to sub come to culture shock as he'd seen so many out-kingdom trainees do. With that in mind, he wondered how the younger of the two off-world trainees was faring.

He paused briefly outside of Teren's door, gathering his courage to knock. In some ways it was funny—he could ride across the border into hostile territory without batting an eye, but he had to gather his courage just to talk to a man who was both a friend and brother at arms. Steeling himself, he knocked, and opened the door as soon as he was granted entrance.

"Elden, have a seat. What brings you here?"

Elden sighed as he moved a rather large stack of books from the seat of one of the few chairs not behind the massive oak desk. "Well, it's concerning one of the new trainees."

Teren groaned and let his head fall to his desk with an aggravated sigh. "Which one and what have they done this time?"

"It's nothing bad, really." Elden was quick to reassure the other man. "Just, well, the young man has taken to eavesdropping."

Teren arched one gray eyebrow, "Exactly what do you mean by eavesdropping?"

Elden sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. How should he put this? Technically, what young Conrart had done could be termed misuse of his gift, particularly since he'd done it without Yozak's knowledge or consent. However, it wasn't his desire to get the boy in trouble, as it didn't seem as though his friend really cared. Idly, he wondered if the two were just really good friends and spent a lot of time in each other's minds, or if they were actually lifebonded. It would make sense; they were from the same world, and while they may look just like any other human, there were bound to be some differences. Finally he settled on "He was eavesdropping in his friend's classes, much the same way our Companions sometimes do."

The look Teren gave him was almost frightening, "You mean to tell me that you caught a trainee misusing his Heraldic gifts, and don't see anything wrong with it? Elden, it was through the misguided coddling of the dean of the Mage Collegium that put both apprentice-mage Leon and Herald trainee Tykir in the House of Healing for three weeks, and let's face it, _**if**_ Leon ever regains consciousness, his gifts will be bound for what he did. It was through the misguided negligence of his teachers that he came to be in such a state. We have always come down hard on trainees who've been caught misusing their gifts to keep them from being foolish enough to do so again. If Leon's teachers had come down on him hard the first time, he likely never would have nearly killed another trainee by using him as an unwilling guinea pig in an unauthorized experiment! And now I find out that one of our own teachers is willing to look the other way when a member of our own Collegium is walking down that same path? Elden, I must say I am disappointed."

Elden suppressed the urge to groan. "The boy is literally a new trainee. His name is Conrart, and he's one of the two Chosen from a different world. The boy has been in the House of Healing until just this morning. Apparently he's bored, and since he has been ordered to stay in bed, he's been eavesdropping on his friend's classes. Trainee Yozak didn't seem to mind his presence; in fact from what I've gathered, it's a fairly common occurrence for them to share minds. I get the impression that they are as comfortable with each other's mental presence as you are with Keren's. I'm beginning to wonder if they're lifebonded actually."

Teren looked at him for a moment, "Say on," he said at last.

Elden gave a mental sigh of relief and dove into an explanation of what he was considering and why, hoping to run right over any protests until he'd had a chance to finish his proposal. Teren listened quietly, adding a word here or there, asking for clarification at one point but for the most part the man seemed to agree with him.

When he'd finished, Teren leaned back in his chair, rubbing his clean shaven chin. At last he sat back up and inclined his head. "You have my permission to test the boy, both for placement in his classes and to see what gifts he might have." He paused for a second, before adding, "Provided of course that you find the time in your already busy schedule to test the boy yourself. In addition to that, you will have to be the one to obtain the permission of Healer Dolan. However, you present such a convincing argument that I am sure you will be able to persuade Dolan to see reason."

Elden suppressed the urge to curse, even as Ratha snickered in the back of his mind. With a nod to the other man, he turned and left the room.

~~~***~~~

Yozak settled himself down into a chair and glanced around immediately, noting that the only color to be seen in the relatively small class was heraldic gray. Here as with everywhere else, the students varied in age, and here, also, he was one of the oldest. He sighed, shifting his weight, and turned his attention inward as he felt Conrart join him again. They melded together with the ease of long practice and almost intimate familiarity.

He welcomed his friend with the mental equivalent of a poke, and Conrart shifted around a bit until the line between them flowed both ways. Yozak blinked, trying to clear away the double vision that briefly resulted. He could feel the dull ache in Conrart's left arm and shoulder from his now mostly healed bones. He could feel the soft blankets as if he was the one curled up under them. He felt everything Conrart felt, heard everything he heard, and could see the white paint of the wall his friend was currently staring at.

He relaxed into his chair, taking comfort in the familiarity of the action and the duality of sensations it brought with it. Silently, he told Conrart about his talk with Herald Elden and its results, amused at the man's grumbled response to his homework assignment. The action was familiar yet different; they were safe here, though he continuously scanned the room, all of his senses alert. The well established line to his friend's mind pulsed with similar information from Conrart, even as they spoke.

As one, they turned their combined attention away from the silent conversation they were having in the undertones of the soft pulsating hum of their joined minds, and focused on the two Heralds entering the room. One was a man with graying blond hair that looked as if it had been stuck on by an inexperienced Thatcher. His blue eyes shone with a bright warmth, and he carried himself with all the authority of his office, despite his somewhat homely appearance. The woman was a slightly smaller version of Dean Teren, with the obvious difference in gender.

_: So, who's your friend, trainee? : _a musical voice said into his mind. A few short days ago Yozak would have jumped in alarm at a voice other then Conrart's sounding in his mind. Now he hardly blinked.

Conrart, caught red handed, didn't even attempt to leave. _: Um, hi. : _ He replied calmly, his dignity not even remotely diminished by the somewhat childish reply.

_: Dirk,: _a woman's voice asked, _ : Why are you in Trainee Yozak's mind? :_

Herald Dirk started, having become engrossed in studying the bond between Yozak and Conrart's joined minds. _: Keren, would you take a look at this?: _he replied simply. _: I want a second opinion. :_

Yozak felt Herald Keren shift slightly. _: What exactly are we looking – Lord and Lady how long has THAT been there? : _

By this point Yozak could feel a headache coming on; he could also feel the fledgling wisps of Conrart's annoyance. He paused briefly, attempting to find a polite way to ask the two trespassers to vacate his mind, only to have Conrart beat him to it.

_: Pardon me, :_ Conrart interrupted, what was quickly becoming a heated debate between the two Heralds, his words painfully polite and proper _: But would you mind telling us exactly what you find so fascinating? : _

_: Goodness, how long have you there?: _Keren replied, startled.

Yozak got the impression that Conrart was raising a brow, before the other man deliberately misunderstood the question. _: Longer then you've been alive. Now would you do me the honor of answering my question? :_

Keren seemed startled by that, but whatever she might have said was cut off by the appearance of Herald Elden in Conrart's field of vision. Noting Conrart's unfocused look, the man reached for his mind.

_: Trainee Conrart, : _the man started to say only to stop as he noticed the presence of Dirk and Keren in addition to Yozak.

_:Not to be rude, Elden, but what exactly are you doing here?: _Dirk asked, still surveying the abnormally tight bond that existed between the two trainees.

Elden's reply was immediate. _: I could ask you the same question. However, if you must know I came to inform Trainee Conrart that I have spoken with his healer, and have been granted permission to test him for placement in his classes, and to see what gifts he has. Now what exactly is so fascinating that the two of you are buzzing around like flies on honey? : _

Dirk snorted_: The bond between them; look at all familiar? :_

Elden shifted until he could see the bond from his place in Conrart's mind_. : Ah, so I was right when I told Teren I suspected they were lifebonded. : _

At that moment, Herald-mage Elspeth entered the room. "Sorry I'm late—the council meeting went longer than expected." She paused briefly, surveying the class, before noting her fellow heralds' unfocused gazes. With a sigh, she reached for their minds. _: Would you mind telling me what is so interesting that you're ignoring the rest of your class? For that matter, why are you all hanging out in trainee Yozak's mind? Hello trainee Conrart, what are you doing here? : _

Conrart suppressed the urge to gape at her; this was getting ridiculous! _: At this point, I'm beginning to wondering myself. : _Turning his attention to Yozak, he sighed. _: Have fun in class, I have company… and apparently homework. :_

With that said, he pulled away from his friend, and back into his own body. He blinked, and found himself staring up at Herald Elden. "So what exactly is a lifebond?"


	15. testing, testing, 1,2ah crap!

AN. Hi guys, please read and review, no seriously please? With all the stuff that I've been dealing with my ego needs a bit of a boost. Please read and review. Anywho hope you enjoy. If you can find the Tamora Pierce Quote we'll give you an e cookie.

Chapter 15: Testing, testing, 1, 2 … ah crap

Herald Elden winced. How was he going to get out of this one? How much information should he give the young man in front of him? Somehow, he didn't think Conrart was the type to just let things go when his curiosity had been aroused.

_: He's not. Vanyel says to give him the basics of what a lifebond is, but let him draw his own conclusions. : _Ratha said calmly.

Sending his Companion a wave of appreciation, he turned his attention back to the young man in front of him. Conrart looked pale, he was slightly flushed, and his breathing wasn't as even as it should have been for a man who'd spent the majority of his day in bed. It reminded him that this trainee had almost died just four days ago.

"A lifebond is a bond that forms between two people when their souls are particularly compatible with each other. They happen regardless of age or gender, and upon occasion have been known to happen between species. I'm not sure if what you have is a lifebond or just a really strong mind link, which has been known to happen as well. You'll find out more about them later; for now, I have come to test you for placement in your classes."

~~~***~~~

Elden suppressed a sigh. The boy was smart, but his handwriting was simply atrocious. He couldn't really blame the boy for this, he was born on a different world, and while the Dyheli could give him the knowledge of the language, they could not give him the muscle memory that came with writing it. He'd have to earn that on his own.

He was definitely going to need to work on his handwriting.

The entire issue was damned frustrating both for him and Conrart. The young man had on several occasions reverted back to writing in his own language. It had actually gotten to the point where he had asked the boy to answer the questions verbally. The young man's script was actually quite eloquent in his own language. Elden couldn't make heads or tails of it, but it was lovely nonetheless.

Sighing, he set a map down in front of the young man, and asked him to read it. He was pleasantly surprised when the young man not only read it but started to give him the times it would take to cross from Haven to particular places on the map both by horse and by Companion. He'd also begun to point out strategic places to camp, including a few that Herald-Captain Kerowyn had missed. The young man then began to prattle off about several military things he didn't understand in relation to the movement of men and equipment, among other things.

He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when he told her tonight as they dreamed.

On second thought, he'd tease her about it earlier… his lifebonded had a wicked temper, and he didn't fancy sharing Ratha's stall… again. Kero was not above evicting him from his own quarters for the night as soon as she returned from a trip if he annoyed her sufficiently on the ride home. Kerowyn was leaving Bolton (the home of her Skybolts) sometime today, which meant she'd be back in Haven in about a week's time.

So what classes did the boy need?

He would need Basic Geography, but he obviously didn't need map reading. Briefly he wondered if the boy even needed strategy or any of the military based classes, before dismissing the whole thing as something his other teachers could look into later. Conrart didn't need figuring, since he'd written out and solved several equations that made absolutely no sense to Elden that apparently had to do with force, wind variance, trajectory and vectors! According to Conrart, it was useful in sailing. The young man would need law and history. From what he could tell, Conrart would be taking exactly the same classes as his friend. He found the situation vaguely humorous.

Elden nearly jumped in surprise when he felt Elspeth's mind brush his own. He hadn't realized just how much time had passed. The young woman was on her way over, accompanied by trainee Yozak, to test Conrart for the mage gift. Apparently she felt it prudent to do so now, before he regained his full strength , since the young man had thrown three people and a lot of furniture around upon rejoining the land of the living yesterday afternoon.

A moment later Elspeth entered the room, Yozak at her heels. The tall man leaned against the doorframe, a cocky grin – which Elden was beginning to suspect was habitual- plastered on his face. Conrart turned his attention to his door, his eyes lingering briefly on Elspeth, before locking on Yozak.

"Enjoy your last class?"He asked simply.

Yozak chuckled. "Actually yes, Gifts is quite the interesting class. I can shield now, and I can actually put a name to my gifts, so at least I know I'm not crazy."

Conrart raised one eloquent brow. "If you say so, Yozak," he replied in a tone that clearly questioned his friend's sanity.

"Hey!" Yozak yelped, doing his best to look offended. "I was going to bring you your things, but now I think I'll let you suffer and waste away from boredom."

They both dissolved into laughter.

"Could you do me a favor Yozak, and check the hilt of my sword? I think the grip's coming undone."

Yozak inclined his head briefly. "Lo – Gwendal left something in his coat pocket for you."

Conrart nodded slightly in response, as Elspeth made her way to his side.

Elden rose from his seat in Conrart's desk chair, and offered it to Elspeth. She smiled and sent him wordless thanks before settling herself down onto the chair. Elden went to lean against the desk, while Yozak pulled the door closed, and then calmly perched himself on the foot of his friend's bed. Elspeth reached out with one eloquent hand and touched the boy's forehead, closing her eyes, and Elden knew the young Adept was focusing out and down with her gifts in an attempt to read the young man in front of her.

She whistled abruptly. "That's one hell of a Fetching Gift, youngling." She muttered; her voice thick with appreciation. "Mindspeech, both projective and receptive; strong and still developing," She pulled her hand away and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "He also has Foresight, and Farsight. They're nowhere near as strong, but both are useable; he'll need to learn how to control them."

"Mage gifted?" Elden asked simply.

Elspeth sighed. "No, he is a channel, but he is not a mage and honestly, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. The Vrondi cling to him. Elden, I've never seen the Vrondi cling to anyone the way they cling to these two." She dragged one hand through her silver hair. "Conrart, Yozak, I have a question for you and I want you to answer it truthfully."

"Okay" Yozak replied calmly. Conrart simply nodded.

Elspeth took a deep breath—to her knowledge, the only people who could see the Vrondi were Adept Mages. By the terms of Herald-Mage Vanyel's spell, the Vrondi watched mages in Valdemar, and reported their presence to the Herald-Mages. At least that was how it was supposed to work. Since Vanyel had been the last Herald-Mage, the Vrondi had simply hovered around the mage gifted, either driving them mad, or driving them out of Valdemar entirely. However, during the war with Ancar, the great mage dismantled the centuries old spell, thus protecting the Heralds from the debilitating wave of magical backlash that would have resulted from it being torn asunder. Then a few years after that, Vanyel himself had sought the Heavens. So the fact that the Vrondi were literally clinging to these two trainees, who bore no mage gift, was downright alarming.

To make matters worse, she wasn't entirely sure that what was hovering around Conrart actually were Vrondi. They looked similar but they were too… well, solid, but fluid. They swirled around like liquid in a jar, reminding her of extremely watered down light blue ink.

It almost seemed like the little things were desperately trying to get their attention - like they had a purpose - a reason for being there.

"Can the two of you see the Vrondi?" she asked calmly.

Elspeth was genuinely startled by the expression on trainee Conrart's face. It was awash with fear, yet there was mutiny in his eyes. For a moment she wondered why, before she remembered that the young man had very nearly died for the gifts she and others took for granted. He had nearly died, simply because some Healer had mistaken his gifts for a sign of mental instability and given him far too much of an experimental drug.

The boy had been in Valdemar all of four days, yet there wasn't a single full-Herald in the circle that didn't know his story. She closed her eyes briefly, took the boy's past into consideration, and modified her question.

"They are air elementals; they look like blue mist with eyes. Seeing them in no way compromises your sanity. I ask simply because they seem to cling to the two of you, and I need an idea of why."

She watched the two men carefully, trying to see how they responded to her question. They shared a brief look, and she wondered just how much control the two had over their ability to mindspeak. The two seemed to actually be communicating via that look.

Finally, just when she thought they wouldn't answer her inquiry at all, Yozak reached out and took hold of Conrart's hand. He squeezed lightly, before he replied. "We can see them."

Elspeth sighed, not quite sure if this was a good thing. These two trainees were the first in history to see Elemental spirits, when they themselves were not mage-gifted or evoking the Truthspell.

"Are your people strong mages?" she asked, calmly trying to make sense of the issue.

The two men shared a look, and Elspeth got the impression she would grow to hate that look. Again it was Yozak who answered her inquiry.

"No, our people are not mages. We are Mazoku."

Elspeth blinked, trying to clear away the mental images associated with the word Mazoku. For a moment she didn't understand why Yozak had brought up his species, but then she began to understand. Magic was not something they associated with themselves.

Human magic hurt!

They were something entirely different; human mages used something called esoteric skills that relied heavily on a stone focus. Forcing the elements to bend to their wills, Maryoku or the Mazoku magic was by nature more symbiotic. They didn't force the elements to bow to their command; they manipulated the ebb and flow of their element under the terms of a contract with full knowledge and consent of that element.

Abruptly she understood. Conrart and Yozak were Mazoku, and Mazoku were by their very nature elementals! So the Vrondi clung to them, awaiting their command.

"So you are air elementals?" she asked, more for clarification than actual need.

Again the two men shared _that _look. This time however, it was Conrart who replied.

"We are only HALF Mazoku." He said as if that summed the matter up completely.

Elspeth paused. _What did that have to do with anything? _When she asked, he elaborated in a tone that made it quite clear the idea had been drilled into his head from an extremely early age.

"The human blood that courses through our very veins taints our souls to the point that the very elements we should treat with would be unwilling to soil themselves with us."

Elspeth took in the truly flabbergasted expression on the red head's face before he masked it, growling something under his breath. She shot a look at Elden. His concern was almost palatable. Conrart's words rang with the sound of mental and emotional abuse, and she longed for nothing more than to find the uneducated, pompous, bigot and drag him out to face Heraldic justice. But whoever the culprit was he or she was safely beyond her reach on another world. All she could do now was try to convince his victims he was wrong.

She took a deep breath, and sent a silent plea to Gwena for help, before she addressed the young men in front of her. "I don't know about tainted blood, but I can tell you this, the elementals in this world seem quite taken with the two of you."

Conrart looked at her for a moment, and something in his eyes told her he wanted to believe her, but that some part of him simply could not. She got the impression that he would have responded, had Yozak not shot him _that _look_. _This time she knew they were communicating, and she got the distinct impression that Yozak was far from happy.

"They have never seen Mazoku before; they are probably just curious." Yozak replied.

Elspeth reached for Elden with her mind, and gave the mental equivalent of a knock. She felt him open his shields to her and their minds brushed in the intimate dance of Mindspeech. She pulled her mind away from his after establishing that she needed to speak with him later, and out of earshot of the two trainees.

"Have you finished testing him?"She asked calmly.

Elden inclined his head. "Yes, I've finished. He's in all the same classes as his friend here. I also want to assign him a tutor his penmanship needs a lot of work."

Conrart flushed an interesting shade of crimson at the mention of his penmanship, and muttered something that even with her newly acquired knowledge of his language sounded like pure gibberish! Yozak burst out laughing.

"Nice—is your elder brother aware that your grasp of the human tongue is so extensive?"

Conrart glanced over at the other man, "No, Gwendal is blissfully unaware of the extended vocabulary I gained at Belar's hand."

Yozak raised an eyebrow. "At Belar's hand, or the hand of his men?"

"Depends on how long it will be before we see Belar again. We don't need another diplomatic incident."

"I thought he killed you, I lost my temper."

"That's an understatement—you burned down half his palace!"

"I stopped once I realized you were breathing."

"From what I heard, there was nothing left for you to burn anyways."

"I could have burned Belar."

"That's a bit dramatic don't you think?"

Whatever Yozak might have said was cut off by near hysterical laughter. They turned and took in the sight of the normally quite composed Herald-mage doubled over in laughter and the completely confused expression on Herald Elden's face.

~~~***~~~

Yozak blinked, startled. Herald-mage Elspeth was doubled over in near hysterical laughter, but Elden just looked confused. Truthfully, he'd forgotten they were there the moment Conrart had mentioned Belar. Just the thought of his friend in Belar's hands still made him wish he'd gotten the other half of the palace as well.

He could understand why Elspeth was laughing; to somebody who hadn't seen what a mess Conrart had been when he'd first rescued him, he supposed their conversation was probably quite funny. He suppressed the urge to shove the memory of finding his friend's battered body at the woman, mostly because he knew Conrart would be utterly humiliated if he did so. Even though Conrart was the most sensible member of the royal family, he had just as much 'princely pride' as either of his siblings.

What he couldn't grasp however, was Elden's reaction. He could understand if the man looked thoughtful or even worried, but confused? It was Jissa who filled him in on what he'd missed. Apparently, he'd inadvertently reverted back to his native tongue when Conrart had decided to exercise his latent linguistic skills. Conrart it appeared had followed his shining example and used their native language as well, thus Elden was left out of the loop in their somewhat playful bickering.

After a few minutes, Elspeth managed to get herself under control. "Did you really burn down half of the man's palace?" she finally asked.

Yozak blinked. How should he reply to that?

"A little over half actually," he said at last.

For a moment Elspeth bore a shocking resemblance to a landed fish. Elden simply gaped at him for a minute before he found his tongue.

"You burned down half of some lord's palace?!" The man cried, his voice carrying undertones of alarm and amusement.

Yozak simply looked at him for a minute then shrugged, making up his mind to clarify the issue completely. He got the impression that this man would understand.

"King Belar captured King Yuri when our king asked Conrart to escort his daughter to the home of Lord Gagenhuber. The bastard sent us a ransom notice that basically said he'd be willing to make a trade, King Yuri for the last son of the Weller line delivered to him, unarmed and helpless." He paused and took a deep breath, trying vainly to free himself of the terrible memories that accompanied that tale.

He took a deep breath and reached for Conrart's hand. "Conrart surrendered himself to save our king. I was the agent Lord von Voltaire sent to retrieve him. The Belar line has never been the sanest of monarchs, so needless to say it wasn't pretty."

Conrart sighed, raising his chin slightly as he addressed his friend, the very image of noble pride. "It wasn't that bad, as torture goes."

"Not that bad?" Yozak snapped, completely galled by his friend's penchant for extreme understatement!

"I only had to bear his company for two and a half weeks." Conrart replied mildly, shrugging his shoulders.

"And when I found you I thought you were dead, Conrart."

"But I wasn't. I'm fine, I lived."

"Only because you are too stubborn to give up and die!" he shouted and ran right over his friend when the younger man opened his mouth to protest. "You spent the next two and a half months in bed recovering from your 'time in his company'. That's one month for each week you were there. 'It wasn't that bad'—from the looks of you he didn't even bother to feed you!"

Conrart made a rude noise. "He was trying to break me, and it wasn't working."

Yozak couldn't help it. He gaped at his friend; only Conrart could discuss his own torture so candidly. He took a deep breath. "Conrart, I know you make it a point to take everything in stride, and to forgive just about anything, but don't you think this is a little much? For crying out loud, if I hadn't shown up when I did that man would have branded you with a hot iron, like nothing more than cattle! You're damned lucky Big Shimaron's population as a whole is so bloody intolerant about same sex pairings that Belar wouldn't dare soil himself or one of his men on you, or you likely wouldn't have made it out with your virtue intact."

Conrart paled briefly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to be resting." He said curtly.

Yozak got the distinct impression he was being dismissed, and that his presence would not be welcomed by "Prince Conrart" this evening.

A.N. So now you know what happened with Belar.


	16. copper 4 your thoughts

Chapter 16: copper for your thoughts

Elspeth sighed as she walked down the hall. She'd wondered over Conrart's rank once she'd gotten his native tongue from his mind. His vocabulary was simply too sophisticated to be peasant stock and he lacked the look that clung to people who lacked sufficient nutrition in early childhood. Even if she had been able to ignore his fancy vocabulary, she couldn't disregard the ease with which he'd just rather eloquently, but firmly, dismissed the other man from his presence. Nor could she ignore the fact that, despite how close they seemed, Yozak had obeyed the command without protest. She'd given such eloquently veiled dismissals too many times in the past not to recognize one when she saw it.

She was also too much the Herald not to notice the complete change in behavior at the end of Yozak's tirade. There was pain and fear hidden in that dismissal. She saw that much in the way Conrart had simply shut them all out. What she couldn't tell was which part of Yozak's tirade had set the younger man off? The branding seemed the likeliest place to start, but when she evaluated her memories of the incident she realized he'd barricaded himself away when his friend had mentioned virtue. With a sigh, she walked into her workroom, and plopped down on a stool. Elden, who'd been shadowing her the entire time, leaned up against the wall.

"What do you make of this?" he asked calmly, handing her a slip of paper before adding, "I know you can speak their language and if you got it how I think you did, I know you can read this. He got flustered at one point and started writing in his own tongue."

She unfolded the paper and glanced down at it—she could read it. She wanted to laugh actually as she read it. Elden apparently had started asking trainee Conrart logic problems, and had him write out his answers. The handwriting at the top of the page was nearly illegible, and the further down she went the more she could see why Elden couldn't read it. It was full of random eloquent letters she wouldn't have recognized as letters had she not already been given his language. They were hastily crossed out in some places, where he'd obviously realized what he'd been doing. Finally about halfway down the page she found she could read the paper without having to fight for each word. It took her a moment to realize he'd switched over entirely into his own tongue.

His script was quite beautiful in his own language. She knew in that moment that the man really was some form of nobility. His handwriting was simply too graceful to be anything else; there was a certain economy of motion about the flawless, eloquent and somewhat fluid script that told her the man was used to writing a lot. But the script still wasn't as uniform as a professional scribe's.

Carefully, she read the paper out to Elden, taking great care not to speak in the language she was reading. That wouldn't do the other Herald any good. Finally she finished, and looked up at the older man standing casually against the wall of her workroom.

"I'm a little bit worried about how he answered me when I asked them about the Vrondi," she confessed to him.

For a moment Elden simply looked at her, and then he calmly said, "It sounded like something he's been told so many times he's no longer sure if he believes it or not."

Elspeth ran a hand through her silver hair. "I'm worried—the Companions won't Choose someone who's broken, but Vanyel is so very young. I wonder; can he truly see just how… bent that boy is? Or has he allowed his youth and compassion to cloud his judgment?"

Elden sighed. "Heralds come from all walks of life." He reminded her gently, "and we've had some magnificent Heralds who were fairly traumatized when they first rode through the palace gates as trainees."

At the look of stunned disbelief on her pretty face, he elaborated; "Neave, Lavan Firestorm, and your mother's own Talia to name but a few."

Elspeth turned her head and stared out of her open workroom door, and into the hallway beyond. She could feel Gwena lurking at the edge of her mind, leaving her to work things out on her own, even though with the door to the workroom open anyone could bespeak its occupants. She thought about what Elden had said; it was true that all of the Heralds the man had named had had problems when they'd first come to the Collegium.

However, she wasn't sure if any of them had been this bad. Neave at least had understood that what had been done to him was wrong. Lavan had been bullied until his powers had awoken and slain his tormentors. It was said the young Herald had never really forgiven himself for the deaths that were on his hands before his Choosing, even if it had been a terrible accident! As for Talia she didn't see how the Queen's Own fit into this; she'd always been a little shy, but that was it as far as Elspeth knew!

Despite all that had happened, they still accepted their gifts, whereas young Conrart and even Yozak seemed determined to deny their own Elemental natures, which was dangerous. The two would obviously be quite powerful if they ever pulled their heads out from under the sand and realized exactly what they could do. In fact, Elspeth was convinced the only reason the two hadn't become a _VERY BIG _problem for their people, was because they had been brainwashed into thinking they couldn't wield the element that was a part of their souls, and as such, had never bothered to try!

Their people had no idea how lucky they had gotten!

What was it Conrart had said? "The human blood that courses through our very veins taints our souls to the point that the very elements we should treat with would be unwilling to soil themselves with us." Something like that anyway. Truthfully, she didn't know whether or not she should take offense at the comment about human blood being tainted; she was human after all.

She knew that there was more than one sentient species on their world, just like there was on her own, so obviously there had to be other half-breeds. Were all of them this badly brainwashed? Did all of them think the Elements wouldn't be willing to form a contract with them? Where Conrart and Yozak actually right? Where the elements here simply more willing to make a contract with them because of their lack of exposure to the full blooded members of their species?

Had this brainwashing been a form of culture wide oppression, nothing more than a way to make half Mazoku into second class citizens? Or had it started out as something else, something entirely innocent?

Oh well, the Mazoku loss was a Heraldic gain!

Now all they had to do was allow the two adequate time to get over what was likely the most profound case of culture shock anyone had ever experienced. Given that, they would likely heal on their own with the aid of their Companions. If they hadn't healed by the time they were ready for their Whites . . . well, the Circle would have to cross that bridge if and when they came to it.

~~~***~~~

Elspeth sighed, and flopped face first onto her bed; it had been a very long day. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week… lying down, check; now all she had to do was get to sleep. The king-sized bed was soft, and the plush comforter was warm against her skin. She hadn't even bothered with pulling off tunic, trows, or even boots before dropping onto her bed in an annihilated heap. She was almost completely asleep when a hyper-active whirlwind blew into the room in the form of a rambunctious five-year old.

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" the little brown-haired bundle of energy shrilled at the top of her ample lungs, launching herself into the air, to land perfectly astride her target –

The small of Elspeth's back.

Elspeth groaned, as the braids at her temples with their many glass, metal and gem beads were tugged sharply by small, sticky hands. She despaired over the state of the many feathers scattered through or braided into her hair, wincing as Starfeather gave a particularly sharp tug, squealing "Giddy up mommy, giddy up!"

With a groan, she closed her eyes and reached for Darkwind with her mind. She was normally willing to indulge her young daughter in a game of whatever struck her fancy at that particular moment. Ironically, it usually didn't involved playing Companion to her Herald, but rather horse to her Guardswoman, or horrible scary monster to her brave and courageous Hawkbrother warrior.

_: Dearheart, what is it?: _Darkwind asked, his mindvoice soothing and gentle.

Elspeth groaned as Starfeather gave her hair another sharp tug, squealing in delight as she liberated one of Vree's primary feathers from her hair, bouncing up and down on the small of her back the entire time. _: Come and get your daughter before the clan has one less youngling to fawn over. :_

Amusement flowed down their conjoined minds, as Darkwind liberated himself from his non-magical workroom, closing the door swiftly behind Vree's tail as the falcon swooped into the room. He swiftly threw up his wards to protect his precious fabrics from the grips of their young child, and made his way into the bedroom. Vree's presence on the bed frame heralded her freedom from the sticky, hair-pulling, monster currently masquerading itself as their daughter.

"Long day?" Darkwind asked as he scooped their errant offspring up into his arms, careful to untangle her sticky fingers from Elspeth's beautiful hair.

Elspeth made what was possibly the most pathetic noise to pass her lips since she'd given birth to the little monster currently in her husband's arms. "Very." She muttered, refraining from going into extraneous detail. She groaned and rolled over before dragging her tired body into a seated position and deftly tugged off her boots, tossing them aside before rising to her feet and kissing her husband.

Darkwind had adjusted well to life in Valdemar despite what was probably a very bad case of culture shock. Compared to the Hawkbrothers, Valdemar was downright conservative as far as customs went. They'd spent an ample amount of time with Darkwind's clan and if she was truthful with herself, she could already see that her daughter would likely leave them to live in the Vale with her Grandfather and Uncle Wintermoon, as soon as Hawkbrother law declared her an adult. She could already see the small girl with her own bondbird; for crying out loud the child was just as comfortable walking on tree branches as she was on the ground. The girl showed little to no interest in the Companions, and while most children her age in Valdemar were fantasying about having a Companion of their own, Starfeather was dreaming about being a Tayledras mage, and absolutely adamant that her bondbird would be a Hawk.

Idly she wondered if Darkwind's influence might help the two new trainees; after all they were very far from anything they had ever known, and maybe, just maybe, the Tayledras Adapt who had once denied his own power could help the two see the folly in denying theirs. She resolved to talk with her husband about it, after their daughter was asleep for the night.

~~~***~~~

Darkwind sighed as he walked down the hall of the Heraldic Collegium. He had just come from getting the Mazoku language, and still had a bit of a headache. It was one of the most complicated languages in his arsenal, and like his own language the meaning of a sentence could change completely based upon inflection, and where you placed the emphasis. He knew from Elspeth that Trainee Conrart wouldn't be magically eavesdropping on any of trainee Yozak's classes, as the other trainee currently had a free period before his weapons class.

Darkwind really wanted to lie down and rest before he had to teach his next class of rambunctious non-heraldic hooligans about magic, but he had promised his wife he would speak with the two young men, and now really was the best time. He rounded a corner and entered the boys' wing of the Heraldic Collegium dorms. It didn't take him long to locate the proper room, thanks to the name-slates that adorned each door. He wasn't surprised to find that Conrart was home. Where would the boy go when confined to bed rest anyway? However, he had expected to have to ask Gwena to tell Trainee Yozak's Companion to have the boy join them.

Both boys however were currently in Conrart's room, and Darkwind briefly wondered if that was a good thing as he could hear them arguing quietly in their own tongue, with the name Stoffel coming up on several occasions. He stroked Vree's plush feathers – which still bore the faintest traces of gray – mostly to calm himself, not the bondbird quietly perched on his arm, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat, knocking on the doorframe as he entered the room.

And found himself on the receiving end of two pairs of sharply calculating eyes. There was something in those eyes that reminded him eerily of a Gryphon's sharp gaze. Then he noticed it, the very, very subtle difference in their pupils. He wouldn't have noticed it had Vree (confused) not shown him what they looked like through his eyes. 'Demon tribe'; the humans on their world called them Demons, and he could understand why, since no human had eyes –quite – like theirs. 'Mazoku'; the word surfaced in his mind, they were the Mazoku. The word Mazoku had a similar meaning to demon, but lacked any and all negative connotations.

"Can we help you?" the red head asked, not even looking up from wrapping the hilt of the sword he was currently taking his frustrations out on.

Darkwind blinked, as a flash of light off of a partially wrapped ruby set into the pommel caught his eye. The red head finished wrapping the hilt and rose swiftly to his feet, crossing the room to rack the weapon with a care that suggested he knew the value of a good blade.

The Hawk Brother sighed, wondering just where to start this conversation. He'd never had much in the way of patience, and while being a father had expanded it past the range of a teaspoon, his patience was mostly extended only towards children. He supposed the best place to start would be to find out which of the two was which. Well, that, and introduce himself.

"Greetings," he said calmly in Elspeth's tongue. "I am Darkwind k'Sheyna. May I have the honor of being told your Use-names?"

The two young men blinked at him, clearly startled, before the brown haired one spoke. "Greetings and salutations Lord K'Sheyna, I am called Conrart Weller, my companion" he gestured at the red head, "is Yozak Gurrier."

Darkwind suppressed the urge to laugh; technically he had become a lord when he'd married Elspeth, but he honestly never thought of himself like that. He could see how Conrart would get that impression though, he was wearing Tayledras mage robes, in just about every shade of blue found in nature and a few that weren't. His scallop shell sleeves just brushed the floor, even if the blue dyed leather armguard, meant to protect him from Vree's sharp talons, dampened the appearance of his flamboyant robes somewhat, he still cut a strikingly flashy figure.

Young Conrart was well spoken and despite the fact that he was speaking in Valdemaran, Darkwind could hear the authority in his voice. He found he agreed with his wife; Conrart had definitely been a noble before he was Chosen, there was no doubt about that. The question now was how high of a noble? Elspeth had an imperious nature, but this young man was actually quite humble from what he could tell.

"Just Darkwind if you please; I am Tayledras, k'Sheyna is my clan name." He paused briefly, and gestured at the enormous gyrfalcon riding his arm, "and this is Vree, my bondbird."

Conrart inclined his head briefly. "I apologize for the mistake, Darkwind, Vree. Tell me how may we be of service to you?"

Darkwind blinked, mildly surprised that Conrart had included Vree in his address, but then the two young men were Chosen, and it did make a difference. "Actually, I was wondering if I could be of service to you. Herald-mage Elspeth tells me you come from a different world, and while the Vale is still on Velgarth, it sure felt like I came from a different world."

~~~***~~~

Darkwind smiled as he watched his daughter play in the palace gardens. Starfeather was currently running back and forth under the branch of a tall old tree -chasing the tip of Treyvan's feathered tail. The great golden-brown Griffon indulged his daughter her games with the same fathomless patience he'd endured the games of his own children and Darkwind before them. He sighed, reluctant to further burden his fellow dignitary with what was technically Elspeth's problem. The trouble was, Elspeth was right, the two trainees were powerful Elemental-mages; if they continued to ignore their gifts they would soon become a danger to themselves and others.

Darkwind indulged his daughter for a few moments longer, watching as she actually managed to catch Treyvan's tail. He started over at a fast walk intent on rescuing his old friend when Starfeather attempted to scramble up his tail like a few yards of climbing rope. Gently, he pried her free of his friends swishing appendage and set her on the floor. Calmly in his own language, he sent her off to play, asking Vree to keep an eye on her.

He launched the huge Falcon into the air, laughing quietly as Vree suddenly became his daughter's Bondbird, vastly amused at the turn her game had taken.

"Thank you featherrrlessss ssson, I do not think my tail could have ssstood much morrrre abussse." Treyvan said calmly, leaping down out of the tree to land with a cat like grace that should have been impossible for a creature of his immense size.

Darkwind inclined his head, "Thank you for indulging in her games old friend, I know you say that is what friends are for. However, it must be difficult with your own Children so close to adulthood to revert back to the fancies of the very young."

Treyvan gave the Griffon's equivalent of a chuckle, "I am not sssso old assss to forrrrget how sssssmall childrrrrren play, it wasssss not so long ago that Lythan and Leander werrre but Fledglingssss." He said with good humor. "What can I do forrrr you, featherrrlessss ssson?"

Darkwind chuckled at that, Treyvan knew him too well. "What makes you think I am not here simply to enjoy the evening with an old friend?"

Treyvan laughed, cocked his head to the side, and simply waited.

Darkwind sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "The truth is I find myself in need of your advice, my old friend."

Treyvan listened quietly as Darkwind explained both the things he had observed of the two trainees, and what he had gleaned from Elspeth. When he was done, he leaned back into the grass, and simply waited for his friend to speak.

Treyvan sighed, the wind whistling past his sharply hooked beak in a slightly shrill shriek. "Forrr now, I would tell you sssimply to leave the two be. It would ssseem that the belief of theirrr people isss that the Half-Mazoku arrre fundamentally deficient and incapable of magic. For now, that belief will keep the trrraineesss frrrom even attempting to utilize theirrr giftsss. Elssspeth sssaid they'rrre to take Giftsss asss sssoon asss Conrrrarrrt is healthy enough to join. Forrrr now, leave it at that; perrrhapsss the knowledge that they have otherrr Herrraldic giftsss will allow them to be morrre open to the idea of the Elemental Gift of theirrr people. That the Vrrrondi and the Dessssteirrr cling to them in sssuch grrreat numberrrsss isss alarrrming. Even in White Gryphon we do not have Elemental Magesss who ssspecialize ssspecifically in one element; it will be interesssting to sssee what they can do."

Darkwind nodded his head and looked down as his daughter crawled into his lap, yawning widely. He smiled and glanced around the garden; it was growing dark. Carefully, he scooped the sleepy child up into his arms, staggering slightly as Vree landed on his shoulder. Turning, he faced his still seated friend, and watched the tip of Treyvan's tail twitch against the grass like he was nothing more than an oversized housecat. He smiled again at the memories the simple action brought up. "Thank you for your advice, old friend."

"Assss alwaysss you arrre quite welcome, featherless ssson." Treyvan replied, rising calmly to his feet. He turned and made his way back into the palace, walking shoulder to shoulder with Darkwind.

~~~***~~~

AN. Sadly I am now beginning what is to be 7months of isolation from my 2 partners in crime since circumstances are forcing me to take a semester off of school, thankfully I should be able to return in the spring. Sadly this means there might be some delay in getting this story out to you as my partners in crime are most of a state away from me. The delays however should not be felt at the very least until around chapter 25 as we already have that much written and edited. I will do my best to see to it that there is not much in the way of delays. As usual thanks for reading and please review. Seriously please, I think it's likely to be the only thing keeping me sane down here where the air is gray and so thick I can hardly see the moon. (Werewolf howls mournfully) and there is no open space, no forests were I'm going to be spending the next 7 months, I'm trapped in a smoggy urban jungle so please review and keep the werewolf from going insane due to cabin fever and shear boredom!


	17. getting to know you

Chapter 17: Getting to know you.

Conrart surveyed himself in the mirror, taking in the new gray uniform. It was almost an exact replica of almost every set of Heraldic Whites he'd seen to date, the fabric was just different. He glanced down at his well worn boots, slightly uncomfortable with the fact that they were his usual brown boots. They currently had a set of gray boots being made for him, but until they were done he'd just have to wear his own. He shrugged off his feeling of ill ease and reminded himself that there were currently six other people –including Yozak – who were in the same position. Besides, why should he worry if the color of his boots was off? He had a legitimate excuse and Vanyel had reassured him time and again that Valdemar was not like the Great Demon Kingdom. Here his superiors would not tell him to do something simply to get him in trouble. After all, he had his first weapons class with Herald Alberich, and it would be easier to perform at his usual standard in his own boots.

He tugged down the hem of his shirt and squared his shoulders, allowing his habitual blank expression to mask his feelings. Closing his eyes briefly, he smiled at his reflection before picking up his sword and running himself through a set of strengthening drills designed to help him reacclimate himself to his blade. It had been years since the last time he'd been forced to run these drills, and he found himself marginally annoyed that he needed them now. However, he could not deny how much of a help they'd been in the past few days.

He began running himself through the drills as soon as Yozak had finished wrapping the hilt of his sword. Yozak had perched himself on the edge of the bed, and watched him run through the first lot, pointing out the places that illness and general weakness had loosened his defenses. He was horrified to discover that the stuff Gisela force-fed him had completely ruined his grip on the blade; his body still shook as an after-effect of the drug. Healer Dolan had assured him that the trembling in his limbs would subside, but it would take time, possibly months. He was unwilling to remain helpless until then, and had almost immediately begun the same round of exercises he designed with Yozak's help after his rather unpleasant time spent in Belar's company.

His hand still shook as he ran himself through the drills, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had once been. He sensed Yozak long before the man entered his room, and thus was unsurprised when the clash of swords filled his small room, and the shock of the impact lanced up his arm. Yozak tested his grip on the blade again and again, from every possible angle, seeking to disarm him. Conrart adjusted his grip accordingly. He was used to this, they did it often enough after one or the other had been injured, helping each other regain what had been lost. The only difference was the size of their arena. They usually just shoved aside his furniture and worked out in his living room. The room he was currently in was frankly about the size of his closet. Not that he was complaining; he wasn't like Wolfram to worry about such things, and it wasn't as if he hadn't spent time in the barracks.

That was one thing that had always annoyed him—he'd had to fight for each step, each bit of ground he'd gained, and it wasn't until he and Yozak had returned from the war, the only two survivors of their unit, that the men had started to treat him with even a semblance of respect. Wolfram often accused him of being a spoiled half-breed prince, but the truth was that he had earned every bit of the respect his men showed him, so had Yozak.

He tapped his foot against the floor twice in sharp succession, before stepping back to put some distance between the two of them. Yozak took a step back at his tapping, and the two of them lowered their swords. Yozak sheathed his blade and hung it reverently on the rack before tossing Conrart his own scabbard. He caught it, fumbling with it for a moment before he managed to get a good grip on the thing. He sheathed his blade with a bit of trouble, thanks to his trembling limbs.

Conrart groaned in annoyance at the thought of being demoted back to schoolboy, as he gathered up his books and the supplies he needed for his morning classes. He also gathered up the homework for the past week that he was to turn in to his teachers today. His handwriting had improved drastically in the past few days, but was still about as legible as it had been when he was five winters old. Hell, even in his own language his handwriting wasn't nearly as neat as it should have been.

The situation irked him.

In addition to the classes that he'd been eavesdropping on, both he and Yozak had an added class, something called 'Orientation'. He found himself both eager and apprehensive. He had an idea of what Heralds did from Vanyel, but he wanted the finer details. However at the same time, he was worried. How would these humans react to a half-breed like him? He swallowed his doubts, squared his shoulders, and raised his chin in defiance. He knew better then to show his fear.

~~~***~~~

Conrart glanced around the classroom, noting every possible entrance and exit out of long habit as he did so, before settling himself down onto an empty chair next to Yozak. He pulled out pen and paper and set about arranging his desk to his liking, noting Yozak's rolled eyes. Conrart ignored his friend; he couldn't help it if he was a neat freak! He watched quietly as the rest of the class filed in, noting faces, and identifying features of the gray, rust red, pale green, light blue and yellow clad students.

Idly he wondered if the colors bore any significance. He knew the gray did, and had a sneaking suspicion about the green clad students, but the rest was a mystery to him.

_: Gray as you know is worn by the Heraldic trainees, Chosen. The Green as you guessed is the color worn by student Healers. As for the rest, Bards wear scarlet, and their trainees wear russet. The Blues are actually the 'Unaffiliates'. Mostly they are the children of the nobles; however some are here on scholarships. They're training to be scholars or artificers. You might want to watch out for them, some of them are quite nasty! As for the Yellows, that is a recent development. They are students of the Mage-circle. Like with everyone but the Grays, they are a mixed bunch. : _Vanyel replied calmly, answering his unasked question.

Conrart resisted the urge to incline his head. He glanced at the door as movement caught his eye, noting the figure in white making his way to the front of the class, an enormous Wolf-like creature walking calmly at his side. _:Herald Drake. : _Vanyel supplied mildly._ : the Kyree is called Risk. :_

_: What's a Kyree? : _Conrart inquired of Vanyel in an unintentional broadsend.

A soft rumbling chuckle that sounded suspiciously canine drew his attention away from his Companion and back to the room at large. _: I am a Kyree, young pup. : _Risk replied with good humor, as he leapt easily onto Drake's desk, and flopped down lightly.

Conrart couldn't help it. He stared quite openly at the Kyree, ignoring the fact that he had called him young pup. Only years of training kept him in his seat, when Yozak poked his arm.

"Close your mouth Captain," Yozak muttered in their own language. "You don't look entirely intelligent like that. Besides, I think your tongue is getting dusty!"

He closed his mouth immediately, startled by his own lapse. Life in the court, where his actions could be used against his mother, had taught him from a very young age to keep an impassive face in all situations. The myriad of children his own age who'd seen fit to torment the 'half-breed', coupled with Stoffel breathing down his neck in regards to not disgracing the family name, and taking great pains to explain exactly what would happen to him should he ever – all that had drilled the lessons into his head until his impassive expression had become reflex.

Only Yozak had ever seen him without that mask! Others were lucky if they even caught a glimpse.

The situation unnerved him, yet with Vanyel in the back of his mind calmly reassuring him, he found himself relaxing again, feeling safe and secure in this classroom full of strangers, simply because Vanyel assured him he was. No matter what happened he had Vanyel, Just as Yozak had Jissa, and every other Herald had their Companion.

He would never be alone again, and he was content with that knowledge.

It turned out that classes for the next three weeks would cover the laws regarding the non-human sentient races that resided in Valdemar. Risk was here today as a guest lecturer, and would be explaining the laws of his own people, and the laws under which they interacted with humans. After he was done, Herald Drake would lecture on how those laws were now integrated into Valdemaran culture and the laws protecting the Kyree who chose to live there.

Conrart was completely fascinated. He must have taken at least a ream of notes on the subject.

~~~***~~~

Conrart followed Yozak calmly through the maze of halls that was the Collegium, headed for the classroom they were holding Orientation in. The penmanship tutoring he'd just escaped had been both boring and beyond frustrating. Now more than a century after the fact, he understood Yozak's frustration all those years ago when he'd been teaching the other man to read and write in Mazoku-jin. The difference was his tutor was 17 years old, and while he had been 12 at the time, he'd also been less than eight years Yozak's junior. (7 years and 8 1/2 months exactly, but who cared when you were destined to live several centuries before aging past thirty?)

He knew on an intellectual level that his tutor really wasn't that much younger then he was, if one took the fact that a human's life was lived in a heartbeat by comparison, but still, the fact that the boy was still pre-pubescent by his standards was downright galling.

Hell, he could have fathered the boy!

He was thankful for his ability to take almost everything in stride.

He glanced around the classroom; apparently they were late, everyone else was already seated. There were two boys, one of which was his age (physically at least) and one who looked to be about sixteen, assuming he was guessing correctly. The elder of the two boys sat amid the younger three girls, enjoying their rather obvious flirtatious company. The eldest of the girls, a brown haired young woman, sat in a back corner with her feet up on her desk. She turned her head and smiled coyly at Yozak. Conrart felt his friend stiffen and annoyance flared down the link between them. Beyond that, he ignored her, flopping down onto a random desk chair with as much grace as an exceedingly annoyed 6' 6'' ex-spy could manage. Only the softest brush of Yozak's mind against his own gave him warning of his friend's intentions before the other man moved.

Conrart found himself pulled deftly down until he rested lightly on his friend's lap. He shifted slightly, trying to escape the hard weapon he'd unintentionally landed on without giving away the game. He made a mental note to inform Yozak that while his knife was hidden from view it was still possible to feel the blades pommel while he rested in the man's lap.

He stiffened as Yozak's hand snaked around his waist, rubbing slightly at the hip in her line of view. He knew Yozak was simply trying to make an impression on the girl. It was his subtle way of telling her to back off, and Conrart was flattered that the other man felt secure enough in the strength of their friendship to hide behind him in such a manner. However, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him entirely uncomfortable!

It wasn't proper!

How would the Valdemarans react? They'd have been in huge trouble if they did something so blatant in Shin Makoku! Marriage among members of the same sex was common place there, but public displays of affection like this were frowned upon by the nobility. He never cared about the differences in their ranks, and while their friendship was tolerated for the simple reason that they'd known each other since they were small children, a romantic relationship between them would be considered unseemly.

If anyone saw him actually sitting _IN _Yozak's _LAP_…. He didn't even want to think about what would happen!

At best, he'd get a reputation of being loose and Yozak would be in serious trouble. He could be dismissed or whipped or the Great One only knew what else!

Just about everyone he knew had been pressuring him to distance himself from Yozak since he hit puberty! He tried vainly to gather his straying emotions; he was scared. For the first time in 50 years he was afraid of Yozak! He hadn't been afraid of Yozak since the night the man had returned from that mission just three months after his 85th birthday. Yozak had climbed effortlessly through his bedroom window and woken him from a nightmare of remembered pain. Yozak had held him while he cried himself to sleep, and asked no further questions about the incident after he had told him he didn't want to talk about it.

The interesting thing was, before he'd been able to figure out the emotion he was feeling, Yozak had stopped rubbing his hip. Now he was just holding him. He felt Yozak shift under him, a split second before the man gently lowered him out of his lap.

The unreasonable fear vanished as soon as he was out of Yozak's lap.

It took him a moment to realize the red head had dragged the chair he was now sitting on over with his foot. The man still had a bright grin on his face, but Conrart could see the worry and the hurt in Yozak's eyes. Conrart was exceedingly frustrated with himself—he had no reason to fear Yozak. Yozak would never hurt him! Yet, after everything that had happened, he simply wasn't comfortable in the man's lap. He leaned against Yozak's arm, doing his best to shield the man from the woman eyeing them from the corner.

He didn't know why, but he wanted to wring her neck for her obvious infatuation.

He wrote the feeling off as being annoyed with her for making Yozak uncomfortable.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he set Conrart down. It was strange how the weirdest things seemed to make Conrart uncomfortable. However, he supposed that it could be due to the differences in their upbringing and ranks. It was amusing that he knew so many people who desired to belong to one of the 10 noble families, or even any of the lesser noble houses. Personally, he couldn't see the draw! It was true that the nobles had the money, the land, and the titles, but they also had all the restrictions. Honestly, the number of times he'd heard 'Conrart, that's not seemly' or 'Conrart, is that anyway for a prince to behave?' flabbergasted him. Conrart was restricted in so many ways he was not.

Particularly in regards to sex.

A noble woman had to remain pure and untouched for her husband. A noble man could sleep with any woman he chose, provided she was of lower rank, so no one could force them to marry. There were different customs regarding noblemen who preferred their own gender, but he didn't know any of them, and Conrart had never seen fit to enlighten him.

Conrart couldn't drink to get drunk. He couldn't gamble. He hadn't been allowed to climb trees after his twentieth birthday. He remembered watching the free spirited boy he'd known turn into something else entirely.

He felt Conrart calming down, and wondered at the slight feelings of jealousy and annoyance that streamed down the link they shared. He almost asked the younger man what he was thinking when Conrart leaned into him again, resting his head on his shoulder, keeping up the image Yozak had been trying to paint when he'd pulled the other man into his lap. Yozak chuckled, and carded a hand through Conrart's short hair.

"Sorry," he said in their native language after a minute. "I forgot you were a prude!"

Conrart made, what for him at least, was considered a rude noise. "Would you rather I moved?" he replied in the same tongue.

"Please don't," Yozak replied mildly, when Conrart started to pull away. "Oy, please don't make me beg Captain. That woman scares me."

Conrart chuckled, and leaned against him, looking for all the world like a shy lover. Yozak smiled and slung his arm around the younger man's slim shoulders. They whispered quietly to each other in their own language, doing their best to appear like lovers sharing sweet words, pitching their voices so that they sounded husky and low, or light and breathy, like they were exchanging sweet nothings. In reality they were arguing about archery. Conrart was a fan of the recurved long bow while he preferred the crossbow. They didn't surface from what was actually a very heated debate until Herald Dirk entered the classroom and sat himself lightly on top of his desk.

~~~***~~~

Herald Dirk sighed as he entered his classroom; he was having an . . . interesting morning. His son had recently hit the 'you can't tell me what to do' phase and he was seriously tempted to tie the boy to a chair!

But that would be unheraldic.

He took in the room at large, noting the way his class currently sat. They were all older than the average newly Chosen. I'Ryn sat off in a corner by herself, glaring daggers at the back of Conrart's head. Austin, Sandra, Victoria, and Valentin looked like a group of social butterflies. Justin sat near them, but had somehow managed to remain aloof. Yozak sat with his arm slung around Conrart's shoulder, rubbing small circles on the younger man's arm.

"Well," he said simply, shifting around on his desk until he sat cross-legged. "I guess I should introduce you all."

"Everyone, this is Conrart." He said lightly, gesturing at the boy. "Conrart, the brown haired woman in the back is I'Ryn."

Conrart turned his head and gazed at the woman, before inclining his head respectfully. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady," He said calmly, his voice mild.

"And you, youngling." I'Ryn retorted.

Conrart simply shrugged and turned back around.

Dirk gave the young woman a stern look, before getting back to the matter at hand. "Moving on; the young boy with the black hair is Justin."

Again, Conrart inclined his head, and uttered a polite overture. Justin looked notably startled. The boy had been among the servants of a visiting minor noble family from the outskirts of southern Valdemar. While Heralds had always acknowledged the existence and worth of the hired help, most people did not. It had to be a bit of an adjustment for him, going from invisible to fire-starter.

The boy inclined his head briefly, stammering out a reply, his brown eyes lit with surprise.

Dirk smiled. He didn't think Austin, with his highborn sensibilities, would be a good influence on the Justin, but perhaps Conrart would be a suitable role model for them both. He only wondered if Austin would allow himself to be influenced by a lesser noble, which Conrart obviously was. Austin spent a lot of time reminding them that his father was the King of Jkatha's little brother. So unless Conrart was a Duke or a prince of his own land, there was no way the boy outranked Austin. In a way, it was too bad, if Austin could see a member of the higher nobility act with such grace and humility, perhaps it would help curb the youth's attitude.

Honestly, he didn't see why the boy had been Chosen; he was not one he would have pegged as the Heraldic type. He however was not a Companion, and knew better than to question the judgments of one.

Realizing that he'd been quiet for too long, he smiled and moved on. "The strawberry blond haired twins are Victoria and Valentin, or Tory and Val. Tory is the one with the more reddish hair, and Val is the one who's almost blonde." He paused long enough for Conrart to politely exchange pleasantries with the twins before moving on. "Sandra is the black haired lass." Again, he paused for Conrart to be polite, before adding, "And the dirty blonde haired young man sitting with them is Austin."

Before Conrart could say a word to that, Austin spoke up, his voice haughty, "That's Lord Austin, if you please! My father is Jkatha's King's little brother, and I'll not have _commoners_ address me by name. Such a thing would be completely unbecoming of my rank. And pray, good sir, that you remember your manners and bow."

Conrart's reply truly startled Dirk.

"I see no nobility in this room," the young man said simply. "If what Vanyel tells me is true, all nobility with the exception of the last heir must renounce their titles in order to be here. As you are still here young man, it is plain those titles bestowed upon you at birth are no longer yours."

Dirk suppressed the urge to laugh at the thunderstruck expression on the young man's face. He was definitely telling Talia about this when he got home. She could always use a good laugh.

He took a moment to gather his composure before simply asking, "From the looks of it, you already know Yozak, but do you wish an introduction?"

Conrart blinked, "No, thank you, that won't be necessary."

"I should hope not, Taisa. We've known each other since we were pre-pubescent!" Yozak piped up beside him.

Dirk noticed I'Ryn's glare increase tenfold at the use of what was obviously a pet name. He quickly decided to move on with the class. "So, who can tell me what a Herald actually does?"

A.N.

See you next week.


	18. evaluations gone awry

Chapter 18: evaluations gone awry

Conrart sighed as he made the long trek down to the sellie. Truthfully, it wasn't that long of a walk, but so far the day had exhausted him. He had time to rest while Yozak was at weapons practice earlier, but now it was his turn to see one of the Weapons masters and prove his weapons competency. He wasn't looking forward to it.

Not that he had anything to worry about; he was the Lion of Luttenberg and hailed as the best swordsman in Shin Makoku since his father's younger days. However, he was still a bit shaky from the stuff Gisela had force-fed him, and tired easily. He was used to testing the swordsmanship of his new recruits, but it had been a very long time since his own skill had been evaluated in anything other than true combat. Then any mistake he'd made had been pointed out in his own blood and pain.

He wasn't looking forward to it, not because he feared the pain or even because he feared defeat at the hand of another; his father had always told him that no matter how skilled he became, there would always be somebody out there who could mop the floor with him.

His father had always taught him never to get cocky.

He rolled his shoulders to loosen them before entering the sellie, with Yozak beside him. He kept his back straight, and raised his chin. He noted the floor to ceiling length mirrors that made up one wall of the building, acquainting himself with the layout and noting the way the wooden floorboards creaked as he moved. They would help him pinpoint an opponent should one come at him from a direction he wasn't expecting. As far as he knew, this was to be a one on one evaluation of his skill, but experience had taught him never to take personal codes of honor for granted. He knew better than to be unprepared to handle an unfair fight.

That lesson had been branded into his skull years ago, the one time he'd forgotten it, on his 85th birthday.

Mottled sunlight filtered in through the high windows, and racks of weapons lined the other three walls. His eyes flicked to every corner of the room, marking everything he could use as a weapon. The racked practice blades were a mixture of wooden and dulled metal blades. He noted the different lengths and thicknesses, with a practiced eye, noting the ones he was sure would be around the right size and weight for him to wield, and marking them in his memory in case he had to get one quickly. He also marked the ones that were too light or too short for him; he could wield them if he had to. The ones he marked as too large or too heavy he put out of his mind. He could use them, but not in the manner they were designed for. They were too heavy for him to use as a sword, but he could use them more as a bludgeoning object.

The soft creak of the floorboards alerted him to the approach of another. He shifted his stance, and turned to face the man coming towards him. He was mildly surprised by what he saw. Herald Alberich was an old man, wearing a deep charcoal gray uniform rather than standard issue whites. Beside him walked the young man he'd been sparring with. The man looked to be around 25, and a member of the palace Guard by the color and cut of his midnight blue uniform. Conrart briefly looked the younger man over with a practiced eye, before dismissing him as only a mild threat. Wolfram he suspected could take him, though he assumed his little brother would have a hell of a time doing so.

With that done, he turned his eyes upon Alberich. Here he recognized a threat, probably about as much of one as Yozak was at any rate. He allowed himself to relax just a little as the man looked him over. Conrart was well aware of the fact that by human standards he was ancient, even if he still looked like a boy. He also knew and upon occasion capitalized on the fact that humans tended to take his appearance at face value; at least until they got a good look at his eyes, and recognized him as Mazoku—then they usually screamed in terror.

Then he lowered his eyes a bit and watched the man from beneath his lashes. He wasn't worried about Alberich recognizing him as Mazoku; he'd be surprised if the man even knew what to look for. No, what he was trying to hide was the spark of fire and the hard look in his eyes that even Yuri noted. The hard look he only acquired after the war. It wasn't exactly the nicest thing he'd ever done; particularly knowing that even with his hair cropped short the action made him look disturbingly innocent. He simply stood there and waited, feeling Yozak's amusement in the back of his mind, as the now former spy figured out exactly what he was doing.

Well, he should. Yozak was the one who first informed him of the fact that even with his hair cut military short, when he lowered his chin just a thumb's width and gazed out past his lashes –

Apparently, he still looked like a pretty boy!

He'd used that to his advantage a time or two.

~~~***~~~

Alberich watched the boy calmly, noting the way he held his shoulders, and the way it clashed with the slight tilt of his chin, and the way he surveyed the world through his eyelashes. He suppressed the urge to sigh; the latest batch of Trainees was going to be a trial and a half to train out of any bad habits just because of their ages. He was already having trouble with that highborn lout Austin, who seemed to think he knew how to wield a sword better than he did, simply because he'd had the benefit of overpaid, overly fancy teachers, teaching him how to honorably get himself killed. On top of that, the boy had actually started complaining that he was 'breaking the rules and fighting dirty' every time he tried to teach him how to keep his pretty neck intact! Now here he was with what was obviously another overly pretty, puffed up young noble peacock to attempt to turn into a Herald.

He was getting too old for this!

Let Kero handle this lad—from the looks of it, there wasn't going to be a thing he could teach him! Maybe getting knocked around by a woman would show this boy that his fancy overpaid teachers were all idiots!

"What skills do you have, boy?" he growled, trying vainly not to let his annoyance show. "What weapons can you wield?"

The boy didn't even bother to open his eyes completely, and continued to stare at him past his lashes. "I'm skilled with a sword," he said at last, his voice holding that trained softness he'd learned to associate with the higher nobility. "Embarrassing with a knife, and proficient in archery and hand to hand," he continued.

Alberich shifted his stance and circled the young man, noting that the youngling turned his head to keep him in his line of sight. At least this one had self preservation instincts that Austin sure as hell didn't! "You say you are _skilled _with a blade. Very well boy, prove it! The practice weapons are along the walls, find one that meets your liking." He snapped, waving his hand in the general direction of the many practice blades. He prayed this gently born idiot at least had the sense to grab a wooden blade. That way it wouldn't be quite as painful for the boy when he walloped him.

But alas, he knew noble pride would keep the boy from doing what was sensible. "Don't attempt to meet age and experience with youth and ambition, boy." He warned.

The boy predictably ignored him.

He watched the trainee as he went through a selection of blades that he would have thought too heavy for the young man. The brown haired youth hefted one, seeming to test weight and balance on the thing briefly before sliding the practice blade back into its sheath. After a moment, he seemed happy with the blade he was holding, and gave it a few experimental swings. It was nothing too fancy; just the first of the techniques that masters taught students of the long blade; Conrart nodded, satisfied.

Alberich raised an eyebrow. That sword was one of the heavier ones in its size ratio, although technically he guessed the thing could have counted as being one of the lighter ones for the next size up. It was also too big for the boy. "Is that the blade you wish to use, Trainee?" Alberich asked.

If the boy was that much of an idiot, then he deserved the beating he was about to get.

"This will do nicely." The boy said simply.

Alberich sighed and flung himself at the younger man drawing his own practice blade as he did so, not even giving him a chance to take the correct stance.

To his immense surprise, the boy brought the blade up in time to block his sword. He disengaged and went after him again, only to have his blade blocked a second time. It appeared that the boy had had some training, but not much from the looks of it. All he was currently doing was angling his wrist and arm into a series of basic blocks.

He continued to attack, hoping to drive the boy across the room as part of his lesson, but to his surprise the trainee held his ground, not even bothering to look up.

He continued in that vein for about five minutes before speeding it up a bit. Again, every one of his attacks was met with a block. However, not once were they countered.

At least he knew the boy could do that much!

Finally, after a full fifteen minutes had passed at this pace he decided to change styles, and see how far that got him. The boy shifted his technique slightly to accommodate for the change, and continued to do nothing but block him, still watching the world through his lashes.

It was infuriating!

Abruptly the boy stepped forward, twisting his blade round to counter Alberich's last attack with a force that made his wrists ache. Before Alberich had –quite – grasped the significance of the move, he found himself losing ground. Alberich struggled to keep up as Conrart switched styles, and kicked up the speed as he took the offensive all in the time it took him to blink. Rather abruptly, he found himself staring into the boy's unusual brown eyes –

- And unexpectedly confronted with the same steel gaze he associated with soldiers who'd survived the front lines.

~~~***~~~

Yozak suppressed the urge to yawn. This was getting boring! It had been about 20 minutes since the start of this bout and all Conrart had yet to do was block. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and watched Conrart closely, wondering just why the other man wasn't using any of his hard won skill and natural talent against Alberich.

The guardsman with the oddly colored skin made a rude noise as he watched the two. "I don't know why Alberich is even bothering with this boy! It's obvious he's incompetent. He must be the shame of his teachers. Damned pathetic highborn idiot; probably never had to face a single hardship in his life." Yozak glared at the man, resisting the urge to smite him for his stupidity. What did this man know of Conrart anyway? He turned his attention back to his friend and almost laughed aloud as realization hit. Conrart often had to deal with new recruits (and the occasional officer) who wanted to make a name for themselves by going against the Lion of Luttenberg. The men were usually a good deal older than he was, or rarely his own age. Add to that their tendency to simply attack the poor man as soon as they had a practice blade in hand and well… he wasn't surprised Conrart had snapped into teaching mode.

He knew from a few of the other trainees that Alberich often humiliated the students that boasted of skills they didn't really possess. He also knew that Alberich despised the high paid but essentially useless fencing instructors the nobles often acquired for their children. The man had apparently discovered that the highborn had trouble realizing that they had to forget most of what they'd been taught previously, until he'd wiped the floor with them at least once. So as a way to save time and prevent further arguments, Alberich simply humiliated new highborn students the first time he had to teach them!

Ironically, Conrart had a similar strategy, but rather than humiliating his recruits by wiping the floor with them he simply let them wear themselves out, while he did nothing but block their attacks with a bored expression. He knew exactly how Conrart would handle this; he'd let Alberich wear himself out against him, and then he would simply step aside and let the man's momentum carry him to the ground. After that, he'd likely set about correcting everything he'd seen Alberich do wrong, and the more frustrated the older man, got the more he'd slip up. Conrart was well aware of that fact, and in Shin Makoku used it to his advantage – green cadets and older, more experienced additions to his unit who were often inclined to think of him as an upstart child- _**never**_ attacked him like that more than once. He was gentle with them afterwards, running them through their paces and correcting what needed to be changed, all while giving them the one on one attention that made him the most loved captain of the Maoh's armies.

Conrart would likely do the same thing now, if he didn't snap out of it. As amusing as that would be, he didn't think Alberich would appreciate it! With that in mind, he reached for Conrart with his Mindspeech gift. The link between them flared to life.

_: I just thought I'd remind you that he's the one testing your skills, Captain. : _He said calmly once he'd gotten Conrart's attention. _: Besides, this is getting boring. :_

Conrart blocked Alberich's blade even as he replied. _: Well, I guess it's time to kick it up a notch. :_

With that, Conrart switched effortlessly from the defensive to the offensive, driving Alberich back with ease and grace. He ran the man clear across the room and back again at least six times as Alberich struggled to keep up with his every move. Finally, utilizing a move Yozak had only ever seen Conrart's father employ before, his friend disarmed Alberich. He caught the hilt of the sword as it flew by, shifted his weight, and with a slight movement of his wrist let the sword's momentum carry the weapon back around and into play.

The look on Alberich's face when Conrart turned his own weapon against him was priceless! The Herald didn't even have the time to react before the now crossed blades rested on either side of his neck.

"Never underestimate your opponent." Conrart said simply, before moving the threatening blades. Without another word, he offered Herald Alberich the hilt of his sword, but kept his grip on his borrowed practice blade.

A woman that he'd noticed, and dismissed before as not being a threat thanks to her white uniform, with graying blond hair and fierce green eyes spoke into the shocked silence. "A lesson best not taken lightly."

_: That is Herald Captain Kerowyn: _Jissa supplied before adding_: Chosen of my mother, the Companion Sayvil. :_

~~~***~~~


	19. lesson learned

Chapter 19: Lesson learned

Herald Captain Kerowyn sighed as she rode through the gates of Haven. She'd enjoyed her time in Bolton with her mercenary company, but it was good to finally be coming home. She tugged at the hem of her whiter than white uniform tunic and shifted her weight in the saddle, adjusting herself to match Sayvil's every move. She would be glad to shed her whites in favor of one of her other outfits. Idly, she wondered how Jeri was holding up teaching all of their students. She was well aware of the fact that Alberich was likely helping her as much as he could, and likely trying to take on more than he was capable of. Much as the man hated to admit it, he was quite old. He was still spry, but age was finally beginning to catch up with him. Not that he would ever admit to that fact, but then Tarma had once told her the day she needed help with a horse was the day they put her in the ground.

_: Kantor informs me that Alberich has actually taken over all of the classes, including Jeri's. It seems that Jeri's expecting, and apparently, it isn't going to be an easy pregnancy. The Healers have pulled her off duty already. : _Savil told her abruptly.

Kero stiffened, startled by that tidbit of information. Why hadn't anyone (Elden in particular) told her about this? How long had Jeri been unable to perform her duties?

_:Only the past two and a half weeks, Chosen. : Sayvil replied calmly. : Alberich has been testing the new Trainees for placement in their weapons classes. He'll be done this afternoon. : _

Kerowyn sighed_: How is he holding up? : she asked after a moment._

Sayvil gave the Companion's equivalent of a chuckle_: Remarkably well, considering his age. Kantor tells me one of the new trainees gave him quite a work out the other day, until Alberich discovered his unfortunate tendency to leave his lower outside line just slightly open and exploited it mercilessly.: _

Kerowyn chuckled; the boy would have to relearn the way he covered his lower line, and she made a mental note to ask Alberich which of the new trainees would require her personal attention. Seven new trainees . . . that was a big number for a single class.

_: Eight actually—one of the servants visiting the palace was Chosen a few days after we left; just before Vanyel and Jissa returned actually, so there are eight newly Chosen. : _Sayvil corrected mildly, before adding. _: Kantor informs me that Alberich thinks the two of you will likely have your work cut out for you with the newest of the trainees. Apparently, Vanyel didn't get to actually Choose the boy until a few days after he brought him to Valdemar. The young man passed out after being accidentally (we hope) overdosed by a Healer who didn't understand his gifts. He very nearly died from it, and Vanyel didn't actually get to Choose him until he'd woken up three days later. The boy was only just released to his classes this morning. Apparently he's a noble, and if he's anything like Trainee Austin, Vanyel and the boy's teachers are going to have their work cut out for them turning him into a Herald. : _

Kerowyn shifted in the saddle, ignoring the grumbling of her stomach as they passed into one of the vending sections of the capital city. She'd missed breakfast this morning and wanted to return to the palace quickly now that she knew of Alberich's predicament. Sayvil however was a Companion with a mind of her own. The Companion stopped in front of a food vendor and refused to be moved until she'd gotten herself some food. A moment later, Kerowyn swung back up into her saddle with the ease of long practice; in one hand she held a hot meat pie, and a ripe apple. Sayvil moved off again, winding her way delicately through the maze like streets of Haven. She dropped her reins and settled the small hand sized pie with its wax paper wrapper down against the horn of the saddle. She drew her belt knife with a single swift motion, and deftly cut the ripe crisp fruit into quarters. She leaned forward in her saddle and proceeded to feed the slices to Sayvil. Only after she'd seen to her Companion did she eat her pie.

The venison was tender and spiced with one of the exotic seasonings they'd recently began importing from White Gryphon. She closed her eyes, reveling in the flavor, and thinking about how well the thing would go with a nice wine. She sat up tall in her saddle as they moved into the higher districts, the very image of Heraldic pride and authority.

She smiled at the young guard on duty at the palace Gate and waited for him to mark their return on his clipboard, before Sayvil pranced through the gates and up to Companion's Stable. The mare calmly walked into her big open box stall, and stood still long enough for Kero to dismount and strip her of her tack. With that done, Kero vanished into the tack room, deposited Sayvil's gear in its proper place, and returned to her Companion's side with her brushes in hand. Sayvil leaned into each brushstroke, and picked up her hooves for Kero to pick without her having to ask.

Once she finished her brushing and put her tools away, she accompanied Sayvil back out of the Stable. The mare walked with her for a few minutes before giving her the image of two young men clad in Trainee Grays. One was a tall, well built man with hair the strangest shade of red she'd ever seen, and the other was just slightly shorter and leaner, with shortly cropped mahogany hair.

_: They are the Heralds my children have Chosen. : _Sayvil informed her, her mind voice all but dripping with pride.

Kerowyn pulled up the memory again, trying to picture either of these trainees partnered with a still somewhat dainty Vanyel. The smaller boy seemed to be the best fit, but she supposed the colt could still grow large enough to carry the larger of the two men with ease. However, there was something about the red head that just fit well with what she knew of Sayvil's daughter Jissa.

Sayvil confirmed her suspicion when she asked.

She paused briefly, one hand resting on the mare's glossy shoulder, wondering just how to pose her next question. She didn't want to insult her Companion, but she was curious and honestly a little worried. _: Sayvil, I don't wish to offend you, but is there something wrong with Vanyel? He's almost fully grown, and yet – well to be blunt, Sayvil, he was born almost a month early and the two other stallions born around the same time are quite a bit larger than he is. His back is a bit short, and while everything looks sound, he's very dainty for a stallion. I've never seen a stallion so lean and angular; he's nowhere near as muscular as the others, and even Steffen is larger than he is, but Vanyel is older. : _

The mare cocked an ear in her direction and seemed to sigh. However, she didn't seem angry, just tired. _: Honestly, Chosen, you're not the first to ask that. I've overheard several similar questions posed by everyone, from the Heralds to members of the Guard, and even the stable hands. Vanyel may be small, even as a human he was a dainty man. He was also a late bloomer. I admit that when Van was younger and so much smaller than the other colts, I went to Rolan. The Grove Born has seen much in his many lives, and he assures me that while Vanyel is indeed a little on the dainty side, his overall build speaks of great endurance. He is already the fastest thing on the field, second only to The Queen's Own Companion when it comes to speed and endurance. Given time he will grow into his own, and he and his Chosen will likely become one of the Queen's special messengers. :_

Kerowyn patted the mare's shoulder, thankful she hadn't offended her. She sighed, she'd best be getting to the salle so she could save Alberich from himself! The Herald made the trek over to the training grounds, hopping over the small fence that was in her way. Kero arrived just after Trainees Conrart and Yozak. She slipped into the sale, noting how both of the young men marked her presence before dismissing her.

She reached for Alberich with her mind as the man moved towards his latest victim. _: Would you like me to handle this one, Alberich? : _she asked calmly.

Alberich sent her the mental equivalent of a snort. _: Easy, this will be. He is highborn, and likely over inflated by his overpaid fancy teachers, his ego is. Having an 'old man' mop the floor with him, good for him will be! Not long this will take, when how much work ahead of us we've seen, take him off my hands you may. : _

_: As you wish: _shereplied calmly, and settled herself against the wall to watch the fun.

She listened quietly to the brown haired boy's answers, and watched him as he chose his weapon. Her first thought was that the sword was too long for him, but there was well earned grace in the simple way he tested the feel of the blade, and his grip looked both light and strong. She winced at Alberich's remark about age, noting the fact that the boy's silence seemed to be grating the older Herald's nerves. Alberich was frustrated, which would lead to his making mistakes… and there was something about this boy. Something about the quiet confidence in his grip that told her there was steel in the lad's blood, something that told her he was a fighter.

There was more to this boy then met the eye.

His response when Alberich asked him about his blade choice startled her, since he seemed almost resigned to something. Alberich didn't even give the boy time to react, and Kerowyn knew this simply was not going to end well. She hoped they wouldn't be sending the trainee off to see the healers simply because Alberich thought he was a bigger fool then he'd originally thought. At the very least, the boy was going to be leaving with bruises.

And they were going to be nasty ones!

To her utter astonishment, the clash of steel on steel rang across the salle as the boy blocked Alberich's attack with a deftness she had trouble placing. When she did however, it startled her. She'd seen that economy of motion, grace, and assurance in her more skilled and battle tested merc's.

This had just gotten interesting!

As for Alberich, the man was obviously blind to the danger he was in.

There was definitely a lesson to be learned here, and it looked as if the Trainee was going to be the teacher.

She watched their bout, noting the effortless grace in the way the boy switched from defensive to offensive maneuvering. He ran Alberich across the salle several times before he finally 'killed' him. However, she got the impression he could have killed him anytime he wanted to. She'd never admit it to anyone but Sayvil that she found his retort to Alberich's previous comments amusing and informative.

"Never underestimate your opponent." He said simply.

She took a step forward before commenting, "A lesson best not taken lightly."

The boy, Conrart, turned to look at her, and she saw steel in his eyes, confirming her suspicion- the boy had seen battle. He wouldn't have that hard look to his otherwise warm eyes if he hadn't. She made up her mind then to learn a bit more about the boy's teacher and background. She watched him calmly, noting the way his hand shook around the hilt of the blade, and remembered what Sayvil had told her earlier that day. Conrart had nearly died less than a fortnight ago, and the healers had only just released him to his classes. She was about to instruct the boy to take a seat on one of the two benches along the wall of the salle when Alberich stunned her into speechlessness.

Honestly, was the man daft?

"Kerowyn, just bested me with a sword this one did, against you how he fairs, I would see." Alberich said simply, and from the sound of it –

It wasn't a request.

For a second, all she could do was gape at him. To her utter shock, Conrart's only reaction was to bring his sword up into a defensive position, and watch her out of eyes that were simply far too old for his young face. She blinked and turned her attention back to Alberich.

"Are you daft?!" she snapped sharply. "You want me to spar with him simply because your pride is wounded? Alberich, that boy was only just released from his bed by the healers!" Her words were fueled by the earful she was getting from Sayvil via Vanyel. She turned quickly to take in the boy's appearance. "As for you," she began, her voice devoid of the sharp edge she was utilizing against Alberich, "sit down before you fall down."

Conrart watched her quietly, his brown eyes wary. "I thank you for your concern, Madam," he said calmly as he lowered his practice blade. "However, your trepidation is unwarranted. I assure you, my lady, I am well." His voice was a display of cultured eloquence.

She was startled—the boy seemed to be holding himself erect only through the expenditure of much self will. He was shaking, but his chin was raised in defiance, so that he positively dripped with noble pride. Kerowyn sighed; she had her own dose of noble pride, and knew it would have to be handled carefully. She had to get him to listen to his body's demands and sit down, but she got the impression that this wasn't going to be easy. She couldn't exactly force the boy to sit down; after all, she was a woman, and if his people were anything like her own, he wouldn't take kindly to a woman telling him to do anything, let alone forcing him to do something. Judging by how well he reacted to her telling him to 'sit down before he fell down', this was going to require a display of diplomatic finesse.

She hated diplomacy!

She briefly considered how to get the boy down onto the bench before he fell down. The red head solved the problem for her. Yozak moved forward so quickly, it almost looked as if he'd simply appeared behind Conrart.

"You stubborn mule," he said fondly, as he scooped the younger man up bridle style, and proceeded to carry the struggling man over to the nearest bench.

"Yozak, unhand me this instant!" Conrart yelled, flailing about in the elder and obviously stronger man's arms.

The red head looked entirely unperturbed by the other man's thrashing and highhanded speech. "Oh for the love of the Great One, Conrart, sit down like the lady told ya, and stop being such a tight ass!" Yozak snapped as he dumped the other man rather unceremoniously onto the bench.

To Kerowyn's immense surprise, Conrart didn't react the way she expected. On a less dignified man, his expression would be termed pouting!

These two were definitely more than mere acquaintances!

_: They've known each other since shortly after they stopped being toddlers. : _ Sayvil informed her calmly, before adding. _: Apparently, the difference in their ranks is enormous, yet their friendship remains unshakeable; even as adults. Their friendship should have ended long ago, but it seems as if their fates are intertwined. :_

Kerowyn thought about that for a moment, watching the dynamics between the two, as Yozak returned to his friend's side, a dipper full of water held lightly in one large hand. He offered it to Conrart, who took it with hands that shook so badly the water sloshed over the rim. To her utter astonishment, Yozak simply dropped to his knees in front of his friend, and wrapped his own larger hands around Conrart's. Together they brought the dipper, held steady by their joined hands, up to Conrart's lips so that the man could take a drink.

She smiled lightly at them and turned her attention to the staring guard behind her, "Don't you have something to be doing?" she snapped.

The guard snapped to attention, his hand coming up into a quick salute before he bolted off to do whatever it was he should have been doing. She turned her attention back to Conrart; the young man was still shaking, and she sighed as she reached for Sayvil with her mind.

_: Has the boy's riding ability been tested yet? : _She asked once she had the mare's attention.

_: No, love: Sayvil replied mildly. _

Kerowyn sighed_: I can't give him an accurate assessment right now. He's shaking so badly that I doubt he'd be able to stay on his Companion at an easy walk, let alone handle the obstacle course. Do you think 20 minutes will be sufficient time for him to recover enough for me to test him? :_

For a minute, Sayvil seemed distracted, and Kerowyn wondered just whom the mare was talking to, before the Companion turned her attention back to her Chosen. _: Vanyel says that should be sufficient enough time. He also says he'll meet us at the Stables in 20 minutes. :_

Kerowyn nodded, despite the fact that Sayvil was currently out in the field somewhere and thus unable to see the gesture. _: Thanks, love: _she replied mildly.

~~~***~~~

A.N So what do you think of Conrad's evaluation with Alberich? Stay tuned for his equestrian evaluation with Kero. Read and Review please. Going nuts in the concrete jungle already please review.


	20. more trouble with evaluations

Chapter 20: More Trouble with Evaluations

Conrart suppressed the urge to sigh as he followed Herald Captain Kerowyn into Companion's Stable. The idea of having to submit himself to an equestrian test was even more galling then having to subject himself to a test of his weapons skills. At least _that_ he'd expected and understood. But honestly, equestrian? For crying out loud, he'd been riding since before he could walk! Horseback riding was part of basic education in the Demon Kingdom, for boys at the very least. All men had to know how to ride in case they were drafted.

A few years ago, after finally cementing the alliance with every other country on their world, barring the Shimaron territories which were still hostile, Yuri had turned his attention towards improving the lives of his people, and decreed that all children in Shin Makoku were required to learn at least the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic in addition to the previously required equestrian lessons.

He blinked in mild surprise as he entered Companion's Stable; this was his first time inside the building. He glanced around, mildly surprised by the large, open box stalls. There were no doors on any of the stalls, and from the looks of it there never had been.

_: We come and go as we please, Chosen; we're not horses after all. : _Vanyel said lightly into his mind.

Amusement drifted down the link they shared as he mentally stammered out his apologies. Vanyel assured him that he wasn't mad; in fact he understood his confusion. Conrart relaxed at his reassurance, Vanyel was one of the best things to ever happen to him, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend the stallion.

Conrart smiled when Vanyel poked his nose out of what he was guessing was his stall. Without really meaning to, he found himself standing beside his Companion, his face buried in Van's glossy mane. The young stallion nickered at him quietly, and Conrart found himself wondering if he would be mounted on Vanyel during his upcoming equestrian test or whether he would be riding an actual horse.

Vanyel snorted _: Of course you'll be riding me! Why wouldn't you be? : _He asked, mild annoyance coloring his mental voice.

Conrart blinked at his tone of voice and scratched lightly behind one of the stallion's ears before replying. _: I'm sorry, but is it safe to ride you? You're not fully grown yet. : _

Vanyel cocked an ear in his direction and thought for a second before answering mildly, _: I can't deny that you have a point there Chosen, but I assure you it's fine. I'm old enough for you to ride me during your equestrian classes, and for basic light riding. However, by the time you're ready for your whites I should be old enough for you to ride without any problems, and if I'm not they will likely just delay your internship ride until I can handle it, less than six months I'd wager. We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it, but for now and for the purposes of this exercise, it is safe to ride me. :_

Conrart nodded, and patted the stallion's shoulder before turning his attention back to a smiling Herald Kerowyn who was standing beside a lovely Companion mare. _: My mother, the Companion Sayvil. :_ Vanyel introduced, and Conrart inclined his head politely to the mare. Manners were drilled too far into his head to ignore proper etiquette, even if the lady in front of him bore the physical form of a horse_._

"It is an honor to meet you, my lady." He said simply, ignoring Kerowyn's startled expression. For her part the mare looked him over with a critical eye before inclining her head and proceeding to startle about a decade off his life.

_: The honor is all mine, Chosen of my son. I'll not insult you by calling you youngling, as we both know that at least is one thing you are not. : _ Sayvil replied, her mental voice colored with warmth and amusement.

Conrart refrained from gaping only by dint of much self-restraint. The fact that the Companion had answered him was startling; he'd been here for a little under two weeks, only one of which he'd actually been awake for and even _he_ knew how rare it was for a Companion to speak to anyone other than their Herald.

Kerowyn turned fiercely intelligent green eyes on him, and scrutinized him carefully for a minute before asking, "Exactly how old are you?"

Conrart blinked and opened his mouth, ready to respond with his physical age. He knew better than to give a _human _his actual age – they'd likely have him committed. Kerowyn's eyes narrowed abruptly, and briefly reminded him of his lady mother.

"Sayvil tells me you are not 19; far from it in fact, so I suggest you tell the truth trainee, because if you don't . . . well, we have ways of making you."

Conrart would be humiliated to admit it, but he backed up a step trying to think of a way to defend himself if it came to that, and came up empty handed. He was unarmed, but for the small set of lock picks Yozak had given him after the incident with Belar, and somehow he didn't think those would be much help now. Furious with himself for having let his guard down after years of experience had taught him never to do so, he glanced around, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. He found nothing—the stable was simply too damn clean!

Vanyel stepped forward, until he stood between him and Kerowyn, every line of his body radiating defiance and challenge. His ears laid back so close to his skull that he looked as if he didn't have any.

_: She wouldn't; no Herald would misuse her power in such a manner! However, should she be foolish enough to try it – I am here my Chosen. : _Vanyel said calmly, and then added with a sigh. _: You can trust the people here; anyone in whites has a Companion and can be trusted. Kerowyn is just used to getting things done the fastest way possible, and if that includes making people a tad uncomfortable, then so be it. Diplomacy has never been her strong suit, but then that's why we don't send her on diplomatic missions… the incident rates would be astronomical! :_

Conrart sighed and did his level best to calm himself back down, thankful (and not for the first time) for the impassive mask he'd learned to wear from a very young age. He laid a hand on Vanyel's withers, and smiled impassively at Kerowyn over Vanyel's broad back.

"Do you really wish to know, my lady?" he asked, challenge lacing his every word.

Kerowyn glared at him. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know, Trainee." She replied sharply.

"Very well," Conrart replied, keeping his voice level. "I am 135 years old, although by our standards I have scarcely reached adulthood."

He suppressed the urge to grin at the astonished expression on her face – proving (to his mind at least) that he'd been spending far too much time with Yozak as of late.

Kerowyn gaped at him before she finally found her tongue. "You're not human, are you?" she blurted tactlessly.

"No, I am half human. Will that be a problem?" he replied mildly.

To his surprise she didn't back down. "And exactly what is the other half?"

His reply was frank. "Mazoku"

Kerowyn looked highly annoyed by his response. "And the Valdemaran equivalent would be?" she all but growled.

Conrart raised an eyebrow at the woman; well, she'd asked for it. "The closest thing in your limited vocabulary would be Dæmon."

To his surprise she didn't shriek and run off or draw the sword at her hip to smite him. Instead she cocked her head to the side and examined him. "No offense intended, but you're not exactly what I expected a demon to look like." She said at last.

Conrart couldn't help it; he laughed aloud, the tension draining from his neck and shoulders. "What exactly where you expecting, glowing red eyes, claws, fangs and a tail?"

Kerowyn shrugged. "That, and maybe slit eyes, like you'd see on a cat, or one of the Griffons."

Conrart snorted and leaned up against Vanyel's flank; she seemed to be handling this well. Better than Yuri had in fact; she hadn't screamed or attempted to kill him or had him committed. Perhaps here, he really could just be himself. "Not the most observant of creatures, are you?" he asked.

"What exactly do you mean by that, Dæmonling?" she asked mildly.

Conrart blinked at the nickname, amusement flared in his breast and he suddenly felt …well … playful. He smiled lightly, and stepped back into the shadows, keeping his eyes on Kerowyn. For a moment she looked confused; then she stepped forward, and in one swift movement grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his head about briefly. Then she laughed.

"You DO have slit pupils!" She exclaimed, before launching into rapid fire questions.

What had he gotten himself into?

Her questions were coming way too fast; he couldn't make heads or tails of them! Abruptly she stopped and he suppressed the urge to laugh. She reminded him of an inebriated Yozak. The last question – and the only one he'd actually caught, amused him to no end.

"Yes, I can see color."

Kerowyn sighed, "Sayvil reminds me that I'm supposed to be testing your riding ability." She said.

He inclined his head. "How exactly do you wish to start this? I must admit no one has ever thought to test my riding skills; all things considered, I'm not that surprised really."

Kerowyn chuckled at that. "Let's see if you know how to groom and tack up your mount first. The tack shed is this way," she added, leading him into a small building at the rear of the stable.

He glanced around, noting the fact that every piece of equipment in the room was in one of two shades of blue, and embellished with silver. Kerowyn showed him where Vanyel's tack was kept, explaining that (for now at least) Vanyel only had the one set of tack, which was less formal than what he should have Chosen in, but given the fact that Vanyel was still growing, they actually hadn't bothered with making his actual tack yet. As such his gear lacked the sigil – a vowel-less representation of his name – and bore none of the fancy inlays and leatherwork normally associated with a Companion's tack.

When Vanyel was finally full grown, the tack would be replaced with proper Companion tack, and what he was currently using would be placed in storage against the advent of another Companion Choosing at such a young age. He nodded his understanding, and when asked, began to name the pieces and function of Sayvil's tack, since some pieces of Vanyel's were missing. She then had him list situations in which certain pieces of tack would have to be discarded and why, like the bells, which were a dead giveaway of their approach should they require stealth.

He was a bit startled by the fact that the bridle was little more than an elaborate hackamore, but he realized and understood the significance of it rather quickly. It wasn't as if Vanyel needed a bit, and the bridle was designed for the Companion's comfort, and so that he could easily slip out of it if need be.

She presented him with the bag full of Vanyel's brushes, and ran through the exact same process. He found himself rather amused by this, as he still had vivid memories of his father holding up a currycomb in a very similar manner, and asking him the same question Kerowyn just had almost verbatim! Finally satisfied that he at least knew his equipment, Kero instructed him to 'groom and tack up his mount'.

It didn't take long; he didn't have to fight Vanyel to get the stallion's hooves up so that he could inspect them or pick them free of debris. After over a century spent tacking up his own mounts (everything from his first placid pony, to the high-strung pleasure mount he'd ridden until shortly before his 85th birthday when he'd put the much loved beast out to pasture, to the most spirited of the many war horses he'd ridden) tacking up Vanyel –who actually cooperated – was as easy and natural as breathing.

He glanced over at Vanyel's uncut tail, and abruptly asked Kerowyn exactly what the test was going to entail. Loathed as he was to cut the delicately flowing appendage, he would if he had to. From her description of the ordeal, he gathered that he could get away with braiding the stallion's tail. He gently gathered the hair at the base of Vanyel's tail and braided it tightly around the dock, leaving the rest to fall freely.

It was a technique (called a plait) his father had taught him long ago, since as a prince he would need his horse's tail to have a refined look while still keeping it functional and preventing it from getting caught in things. He'd never really bothered with such frivolousness after his 85th birthday, when he'd realized that the only worth he would ever have as a half –breed was what he could win in the military. Valiant hadn't needed a fancy tail; as such he'd simply shaved the area around the gelding's dock. He'd been riding Valiant since shortly before Yuri had returned to their kingdom and had ridden him on parade all of three times.

And came back wearing something unpleasant for his trouble – he rather vividly remembered avoiding his king and the rest of his family for the better part of a day, as he attempted to _scrub _away the stink of some of the things he'd been pelted with! It had worked, but he could have sworn he'd scrubbed off several layers of his skin as well.

Washing Valiant afterwards had always been a chore, mostly because the gelding had refused to hold still. The beast bit too! He'd kept Valiant's tail cut closely to his dock just to avoid problems, but beyond that had allowed it to be as long as was functionally possible. He was glad he didn't have to do the same with Vanyel. The fact that the stallion was willing to hold still long enough for him to braid his tail in such an intricate manner, without having to be securely tied to something, was an advantage he was profoundly grateful for!

With that done, he stepped back and allowed Kerowyn to inspect his work, explaining the reasons behind the plaited tail when asked, but glossing over the more intimate details. She didn't need to know his rank or that he braided it simply because the mere thought of giving Vanyel what amounted to a military hair cut saddened him in ways he was not yet willing to cope with.

She sure as hell didn't need to know that he'd been pelted with rotten vegetables (and worse) simply because his parents had belonged to two different species!

He had to fight the urge to grab hold of Van's reins and lead the stallion out of the stable. Instead he took a leaf out of Kerowyn's book and walked calmly beside his Companion, trying not to fidget since he wasn't used to having his hands idle when he worked with horses, and it had been years since he had a horse that followed him around like a dog rather than having to be led.

_: Why don't you put your hand on my shoulder then, Chosen? It would give you something to do, and I wouldn't mind the contact. : _Vanyel said kindly.

Conrart did as he was told, gently resting the palm of his hand on Vanyel's shoulder. As ridiculous as it sounded, the small action made him feel better, safer, as if by doing that alone he could keep Vanyel from bolting. That and the fact that the action reminded him invariably of Hoshi, the loyal little mare that had been his father's last birthday gift to him. He'd led Hoshi with hand and pressure signals, though it had always seemed as if he didn't need them. She was usually at his heels anyway. The mare had been gentle, but spirited and high-strung, in addition to being extremely intelligent. She'd also been his first real horse.

Just thinking about her brought a smile to his lips.

_: I'd like to know more about this horse of yours, Chosen. However, now is not the proper time. We're out side and you should mount up. :_ Vanyel said quietly into his mind, startling him out of his reveree.

Only years of training kept him from leaping clean out of his skin in surprise when Vanyel bespoke him. Idly he wondered just what this place, this world, and Vanyel were doing to him. He hadn't been caught unawares by anyone, barring maybe Yozak in 50 years! Yet this place kept doing that to him. He felt an almost undeniable pull to simply be himself, to let down his guard and trust these people in a way he _NEVER_ had with anyone except Yozak.

He didn't want to; lowering the shields he'd very carefully constructed around his heart was folly! It meant he opened himself up to pain again. It was true that Yuri had somehow wormed his way past those shields and into his heart, but Yuri was the first and last person to do so in half a century!

He sighed, dismissing his feelings as something to look into later and swung up into the saddle with the ease and practiced grace of a born horseman. He sat there quietly, while Kerowyn inspected his seat, looking for anything that needed correcting, and coming up empty handed. At last she ordered them to walk in a large circle around her. He did so without complaint. It took him a moment to get accustomed to the fact that he didn't have to direct Vanyel, and then he had to figure out what to do with his hands. He finally settled on holding the reins exactly as he would have had he actually been riding a horse, and rested his wrist against the saddle horn.

Kerowyn seem pleased, and asked them to move up into a trot, then a canter and finally a gallop. That last one startled him so much that he dropped the reins altogether and grabbed the saddle horn to steady himself. Vanyel was significantly faster than any horse he'd ever ridden, and while he'd ridden many horses at a full gallop, he wasn't prepared for how fast Vanyel could move.

Wolfram often spent hours in frivolous displays of equestrian merit, such as riding in circles or weaving through poles at a full gallop, but Conrart had never engaged in such activities – as such he got a bit dizzy rather fast. He finally resorted to picking a point on Vanyel's mane and staring at it. That at least gave him something to look at that wasn't moving at an alarming rate.

At length, Kerowyn pronounced herself satisfied with his seat and informed him that they would be running the obstacles course. Conrart suppressed the urge to groan and leaned forward to press his forehead into Vanyel's crest, muttering in his native tongue about crazy demented humans who were going to make him lose his lunch.

The stallion's answering whicker of amusement gave him little comfort.

_: I can go faster Chosen; I am one of the fastest Companions on the field. You'll have to get used to it, I'm afraid, though I doubt we'll be going in circles like that again. : _

Conrart gave a purely mental groan at that bit of information. _: Just promise me you won't start trying to scrape me out of the saddle at a full gallop. I had a mount that did that and I can assure you it wasn't pleasant! : _

_: I wouldn't dream of it Chosen, and no, I don't suppose that would be pleasant. Out of curiosity, how did you handle that? : _Vanyel asked mildly.

"I had Valiant gelded," he replied aloud, before adding, "It did wonders for his temperament."

If a stallion could wince, Vanyel did.

He caught Kerowyn smiling out of the corner of his eye.

The obstacle course when they got there was not what he was expecting! There were random logs thrown about the ground, and arranged into different low configurations. None of the logs were more than three feet in diameter and while they occasionally rested either against or on top of each other, they wouldn't prove difficult to maneuver through on a trained horse. He didn't think either he or Vanyel would have even the slightest problem with this course.

_: Is she joking with us because I know a very old pony I could take this course on. : _He asked, mildly offended.

Vanyel whickered in amusement. _: For now she's trying to see if you can handle this before she lets us try one of the other courses. :_

~~~***~~~

The first course she'd had them run was predictably very easy, the second was harder, the third annoying but not necessarily difficult, the fourth was hard and intricate but it hadn't been even remotely difficult staying in his saddle until she'd asked them to do it at a gallop. The fifth course she'd asked them to run was not a course he ever wanted to see again, let alone run. After they'd gotten through it the first time without incident, she'd insisted they take the course bareback, and without bridal and reins. It hadn't been amusing at all! But then being nearly unhorsed by what amounted to a flying sapling was most definitely not something he would define as fun!

He was currently sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, trying not to throw up, leaning up against a concerned Vanyel, while Kerowyn inspected the mess his fetching gift had made of the course after the flying sapling startled him into using them.

He felt so drained!


	21. Yozak steps in it again

Chapter 21: Yozak steps in it … again.

Yozak laughed as he sat down for lunch with Conrart. Three months had changed them both, and he found he liked the changes that being Chosen had wrought in his friend. He was slowly but surely beginning to see a lot more of his old friend. Not the Captain, not Lord Weller, but Conrart, the Conrart he'd known when Conrart's father was still alive.

Conrart smiled more often now.

Not the little smirk that hid his feelings from the world and complimented his impassive expression. Not the small smile that rarely reached his eyes and that he often gave Yuri, and not the weak smiles he'd been seeing for the past 50 yrs. These were real smiles, the kind where his eyes lit up and sparkled with warmth and mirth.

He glanced up as Austin sat down across from him, arguing about inter-country diplomatic policy with Justin. Three months had changed them as well. Austin was no longer the stuck up, pretentious, spoiled brat Companion Roan had originally Chosen. Justin was no longer the shy boy who'd literally ran into Aaron on the field after accidently setting one of the drapes on fire. In the short time that had elapsed he'd become a strong, confident Heraldic trainee. As for the twins and Sandra the three young girls hadn't changed all that much.

I'Ryn still scared the pants off of him, usually by trying to get into his pants!

Lately he'd taken to hiding behind Conrart, which didn't help the rampant rumors circulating about them, especially after Yozak found her waiting in his bed, and immediately bolted for the safety of Conrart's room, without even bothering to see if she was wearing anything under his sheets. He crashed in Conrart's room for a week after that, and taken to locking his door at night after the third time he'd woken up to an unexpected female visitor. Ironically, this had only made the rumors worse, since all of the boys had realized shortly thereafter that there seemed to be a connection between the two men.

The fact that the two of them emerged from one another's rooms almost every morning simply didn't help matters either.

Tykir showed up and joined them for lunch shortly after Austin and Justin, with the girls (including his sister, much to Yozak's horror) not far behind. The man looked a little tired, but then all he was currently doing was exercising the formally latent gifts his younger brother had awoken. Since the trainee technically should have gotten his Whites the day after his brother's unexpected and catastrophic experiment, the bulk of his classes currently consisted of learning to use his new healing gifts! The end result was that he fell face first into his bed every night, and nothing except his Companion or a major disaster could rouse him again before the morning.

They talked quietly, joked around, and just killed time in general before the start of their next classes. Yosak had gifts next, and had to admit the topic they were about to begin fascinated him to no end! Today, they would begin to learn the first level of the Truth Spell! Conrart also had Gifts, but his was the class period after Yozak's, and was with Herald Dirk and the rest of the people who had the fetching gift. Justin also had gifts at that time, but he would be out by the river with Herald Griffon.

The bell tolled, calling them to their classes.

They all rose from their seats and turned their dishware over to the trainees who currently had kitchen duty. Yozak laughed at a comment that Jissa had made, and ruffled Conrart's now shaggy hair as they set out in opposite directions. Conrart had decided to let his hair grow out after they'd gotten to Valdemar, simply saying that he couldn't mourn forever when Yosak had asked about the change. In and of itself, Yozak took that as an indication that Conrart was starting to heal. He'd first cut his hair after the war, after the drugs Gisela had given him finally wore off, and he'd been able to mourn the loss of his fallen comrades.

He'd kept it military short since then, only allowing his bangs to grow out to cover the scar that ran through his eyebrow.

It was strange how insecure Conrart actually was behind his calm, confident façade. Yozak often wondered just what it was that kept others from seeing it. Even as a little kid he'd always known when something was bothering his friend, even when everyone else was clueless! To him, Conrart was and always had been an open book!

Yozak sighed and shook all thoughts of his friend, who was currently relearning the knife under Kerowyn's careful instruction, from his mind. He had a class of his own to attend, and the concept of the Truthspell seemed fascinating. He suppressed the urge to groan though when I'Ryn took a seat right next to him and leaned up against his arm. Briefly he envisioned blowing her clear out of Valdemar with a very strong gust of wind, but that would be unheraldic, and he didn't have the elemental gifts of his people to do it with either.

So he simply petitioned the Great One for a fraction of the patience he'd granted Conrart. Conrart, who had so much patience that most thought he didn't have a temper. Granted, anyone who said that had never seen Conrart Weller lose either his patience or temper, and he'd seen the somewhat explosive results of both.

"You know, I find it interesting that we essentially have the same gifts." I'Ryn began to flirt, laying her head on his shoulder. "We both have Mindspeech and Animal Mindspeech, in addition to that your empathic gifts are very similar to my bardic gifts in function."

He completely ignored her.

She actually pouted at him then, and he shuddered—he looked _A LOT _like what he expected a female Conrart to look like. Her hair was about two shades too dark, and missing the red and gold highlights that characterized Conrart's hair. Her eyes however were the same shade of hazelnut brown, though they lacked the slit pupil and silver specks. She was tall and long in the leg, not quite as tall as Lady Cecilia, and nowhere near as well endowed, but still quite lovely.

If it wasn't for the fact that she truly looked like a female Conrart, he likely would have been more than willing to take her up on her offer, but he'd long ago discovered that sleeping with someone who looked like someone you were emotionally but not romantically involved with was a very bad idea!

Her attitude also needed adjusting badly. Besides, he made it a point not to get involved with people who would take a relationship more or less seriously than he would.

He fought the urge to jerk away in disgust when her hand came to rest lightly on his thigh; by the Great One this woman couldn't seem to take a hint! Ah hell, now she was playing with his hair!

"If we're as similar as you say we are, it would never work out, Hun; it would be like dating myself." He told her flippantly.

She jerked away from him then, and the look in her eyes – so similar to Conrart's – nearly made him give in and comfort her. His heart broke at that look and the way she ducked her head, her bangs obscuring her eyes. For a moment he almost pulled her to him to offer her the wordless comfort he so easily gave Conrart, despite the fact that his empathy was screaming that she wasn't truly hurt and his line to Conrart revealed that his friend was just fine. But she looked so much like Conrart – almost like she'd been practicing the few mannerisms of his that most people never saw.

Then she unwittingly freed him from her spell by doing something Conrart would never do. She glanced up at him coyly, batting long lashes, and he got a good look at the circular pupil of her brown eyes. In this light, Conrart's eyes would bear the telltale slit which marked them as Mazoku.

He backed away from her, rose gracefully to his feet, gathered his things, and switched desks.

"What – where are you going?" I'Ryn asked sharply.

Then he glared at her, wishing for the first time in more than a century that he was a full blooded demon, or that he at least had more prominent slits to his eyes. The slit tended to stand out more when they lost their tempers, and right now he wished he had a bit more of his father in his eyes. Scaring the lass to her senses might be the only way to get her to give up this crazy chase! That's what this was, his empathy told him mildly, she wasn't used to not getting her way, and he was the rabbit who kept avoiding the snare!

"I'm going somewhere where my personal space will be respected. Ningen!" He snapped.

She gaped at him for a moment, as did the other four trainees in his class, but at that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted away from her and he wanted it now!

Finally, I'Ryn appeared to regain her tongue. "What in the nine hells did you just call me?"

He glared at her, feeling his ire rise. It was true, Mazoku of his class didn't much care if they slept around before marriage, as long as all participants were willing, and children didn't result. However, women were _NEVER_ this forward, and the last time that he'd been literally forced to fend off unwanted advances from either sex, he'd been undercover and in the red light district! He'd lived among the nobles too long it seemed, because his opinion of I'Ryn's worth had just dropped dramatically, taking her from the realm of people he would've been willing to bring home, and into the realm of people who he'd be willing to have a tryst or two with, but not someone he would ever seek an actual relationship with.

Before he could stop himself, he suffered an uncontrollable bout of word vomit. "Shoufu no you na kyoutsuu no josei jibun de koudou o yokusei shi te kudasai!" He snapped, which roughly translated out to 'Lady, please restrain yourself, you're acting like a common whore.' He was too annoyed to appreciate his good fortune, or even comprehend the fact that the words had come out in his native tongue.

I'Ryn opened her mouth, and frankly at that point he could have cared less what she replied. It had taken every ounce of his will power not to be even less charitable than he had been. He ignored the gaping youngsters in the room with them. He wasn't their father and he wasn't going to temper his tongue around them just because they were young. Not one of them was under 16, and while that may have been prepubescent by his standards, he was well aware of the fact that they were all adults or nearly so in the eyes of the Crown. Ningens . . . their lives came and went in a heartbeat by his standards. If he tempered his tongue until they were 'old enough', they'd be dust in the ground, and he would never again be able to utilize his extended vocabulary.

He was spared the travesty of her obviously ill educated tongue and feminine guile by the arrival of Herald Keren, who took one look at her class and promptly ordered them all back to their studies. Grumbling under his breath in his own tongue about loose and vexing females who would drive him to permanently seek the company of other men if he let them, he settled himself back into his chair and watched Keren closely.

_: Yozak? : _Conrart asked into his mind, preoccupied with Kerowyn and his own lesson but still curious as to what had put his friend out of his good mood.

Yozak sighed, his temper leaving at Conrart's gentle touch. The man was like a balm on his bruised equilibrium – but then, Conrart had always had the ability to take him immediately down from a killing rage to a soft simmer. _: Nothing to worry about, I just lost my temper with I'Ryn. I swear that woman is so loose, and she wonders why I'm not even remotely interested! I think I've lived among you nobles for too long – I'm beginning to think like one, at least in regards to who and what I'm willing to bring to bed. : _He sent back, his mental voiced laced with sordid humor. He'd always had a well developed sense of the brawdy.

_: Very well, I'll leave you to it then. Enjoy your class. : _Conrart replied, and abruptly he was gone_._

Yozak groped after the falling link in surprise. Conrart's mental voice had been light, but laced with a surprising amount of pain. _: Conrart? Conrart?: _he called, trying desperately to reestablish the line of communication, and reached the other man, only to find himself faced with the mental shields Conrart had perfected in the last few months!

He suppressed the urge to groan and gave the mental equivalent of a knock, only to have Conrart ignore him. It took every ounce of his will power to remain in his seat. The last time Conrart had barred him from his mind was when he'd been pretending to be Balar's man! And his shields hadn't been nearly as impressive then! Now they were a great damned fortress!

Annoyed, he reached for Jissa, only to receive an answer he already knew; somehow he'd hurt Conrart. He sighed and turned his attention back to his class—he would talk to Conrart after their classes were done, even if he had to do it verbally!

Keren was currently describing the Vrondi, and how they were used in the casting of the Truthspell. "Picture a light blue cloud with eyes," she said descriptively. "These are the Vrondi. The Vrondi are an air elemental, and they cannot abide the shifts in the individual currents of energy that are produced by telling a falsehood. Because of this, they disappear when a person tells a lie. Until a little over a decade ago, invoking the Truthspell was the only bit of true magic Heralds could perform. With the return of the Herald-Mages, this of course has changed. However, this spell remains the only true magic those of us who don't bear the mage gift can utilize."

She smiled lightly at them then. "There are two stages to this spell. The first level of the spell doesn't force the truth from a person; it only registers whether or not the truth is spoken. The second level of the spell does force the person that it's cast upon to speak only the truth. This spell manifests as a blue mist around the head and shoulders of the person it has been cast upon. This mist is visible to everyone save the person under the spell, and during the first level, disappears when lies are told. Like many low level spells, this one is actually a cantrip and requires a little rhyme to get it started, and no, you don't have to say it aloud."

The bell signaling the end of class tolled then. Keren sighed. "You will be learning both stages of the Truthspell tomorrow; after that, there is nothing further I can teach you. How far you advance from here will depend on the limits of your individual gifts and how well you hone them with practice. You're all dismissed, and I'll see you tomorrow for our final class."

Yozak sighed, gathered his stuff, and left the room quickly. He'd been assigned a new class, and today would be his first day attending 'courtly graces', which would teach him how to deal with the Valdemaran nobles. If they were anything like the nobles in his country, he wouldn't have a problem.

~~~***~~~

A.N yay another chapter. Okay guys please read and review. let me know what you think.


	22. you meet the most interesting people

Chapter 22: you meet the most interesting people… breaking and entering.

Conrart sighed and glared at the small strip of braided rawhide he was now fairly certain had originally been part of some horse's bridle. He'd been trying to fetch the thing for the past twenty minutes with no luck! It was a simple enough task, yet he could not seem to do it! All he had to do was move the three inch long strip from its spot on the stool to his hand, yet he couldn't manage it. Oh, the thing moved alright . . . only to become a miniature arrow, which he'd so far managed to drive an inch into the tree that stood a good four feet behind him. He just couldn't seem to get the damn thing to come to his hand and actually stop there!

He groaned and tugged at the little thing again. It flew at him with enough force that he didn't even bother trying to catch it! Instead, he threw himself to the side and out of the path of his miniature projectile. This was beyond aggravating. He could move the stool and not have it turn into a projectile, so why in the Great One's name couldn't he move anything lighter without unintentionally turning it into a weapon?!

_: Take a deep breath Chosen. Try it again, and this time, don't put as much force behind it. : _Vanyel said calmly. _: You're trying to make it come to your hand; try to envision it already in your hand. :_

Conrart sighed and tried again, this time with a bit more success. He didn't have to throw himself out of its path this time; he simply reached out and caught the thing as it flew by. The problem was anyone could catch the thing as it floated through the air towards him. He didn't understand it, and it was frustrating! I'Ryn could do it, and so could the other students in his class, but he just couldn't seem to grasp the concept. He closed his eyes briefly and sent I'Ryn his patented small smile in response to her smirk as the message tube she was working with seemed to simply materialize in her hand.

He was beginning to hate that smug smirk!

Truth be told, he'd been in a bad mood when he first came to this class 45 minutes ago. His conversation with Yozak still fresh in his mind—so Yozak didn't want a partner who was loose. It shouldn't have surprised him. Not really, especially since nobles wanted to marry virgins. That didn't necessarily mean noble men were chaste. A nobleman could sleep with any woman he chose to, as long as there was no chance of her father forcing you into a marriage that you didn't want.

As for the nobles who preferred their own gender . . . well, the rules were little different there. They could sleep with any man they chose, so long as they topped, and the other man's rank was low enough that his family couldn't force them into a marriage. Any noblemen who chose to bottom were treated the same as noblewomen; they were expected to remain virgins until marriage.

To do otherwise was considered a disgrace.

When noblemen married, the one who played the wife was expected to forfeit his lands and titles to his husband as a dowry. He essentially became the lady of his own lands!

Honestly, Yozak's words shouldn't have surprised him, but he hadn't expected such sentiments to come from Yozak who was peasant-stock, and thus a bit freer. But then, Yozak had come to live at the palace with him shortly after he became Lord Weller, so it was no wonder the man had inherited some of their prejudices.

Still, it pained him to think about it!

To make matters worse, he hadn't made any progress in months, even though he hadn't lashed out at anything with his gift since the incident on the obstacle course. It probably helped that Lord Gwilherm and his three friends weren't around to make his life miserable. The four had become permanent residents of Covenant Castle just three and a half weeks before Vanyel had Chosen him. He was glad Vanyel had saved him from being forced to live with the men, but he worried about Yuri's safety with the four of them in the castle. He took comfort in the fact that Yuri was engaged to Wolfram, and had the added safety of being the Maoh. He didn't think even Lord Gwilherm would be stupid enough to attack the king. But then again, 50 years ago, he hadn't thought the man foolish enough to assault any member of the royal family, and Gwilherm and his friends had proven him wrong!

He was here with Yuri's blessing, and he knew his king was safe—Gwendal, Günter and the royal guard would see to that. But his inability to get control of his gifts annoyed the hell out of him. To make matters worse, he felt like he was failing not only himself, but the Heralds, Vanyel – his beloved Companion – and Yuri every time he saw the frustrated look in Herald Dirk's eyes.

Dirk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he headed over to him. Conrart closed his eyes briefly and resisted the urge to lower his eyes in shame. Instead, he brought his chin up slightly and waited for the man to give him his orders.

"Alright youngling; it's sadly obvious that this just simply isn't working, so lets try something with a little more weight," Dirk said, mildly gesturing over at a pile of firewood. Then he added, "I want you to fetch one of those logs. Take it from the middle of the pile. If you do it right, the logs shouldn't even shift."

Conrart inclined his head, and glanced over at the pile of firewood stacked up against the stone wall of Companion's Stable.* Closing his eyes briefly, he settled back on his haunches and tried to focus on his gift. He tried desperately to unravel a single thread of power, like Vanyel had taught him, and force the rest of the tsunami that was his fetching gift back far enough for him to safely utilize it. Having finally achieved that, he opened his eyes and gave the log a soft tug.

- The damned thing didn't budge!

His eyes narrowed, and he tugged again, this time with more force. The log moved, but only about an inch forward. I'Ryn snickered, and he heard her mutter to another trainee, "It's not that hard, I don't see what his problem is." The other trainee immediately shushed her.

Annoyed and unwilling to be the butt of anyone's joke, he let princely pride get the better of him. Taking a deep breath, he silently ordered the log to come to him, putting enough force behind it that the action went from mere exercise to princely command. It worked… just a little too well!

The log came flying free of the pile, and Conrart, swearing, threw himself at a very startled I'Ryn, taking them both down in one swift and well practiced maneuver, rolling to kill their momentum as the log went flying over their heads. He was thankful years of military training and martial arts had granted him the ability to keep perfect control of his body even when it was in motion. He landed lightly on hands and knees, with I'Ryn on her back beneath him, as the familiar scent of smoke and the crackle of fire filled the air. For one brief disoriented second, he wondered what Wolfram had set alight this time.

I'Ryn stared up at him for a second as he tried to put what his senses were telling him together with what he intellectually knew. Her eyes narrowed abruptly, and her hands connected sharply with his pectoral muscles as she shoved him away.

"Get off of me, you creep!" she snapped. "I'm not interested in _you._"

Conrart raised an eyebrow at that comment. "Thank Shinou for small miracles." He retorted mildly, rising gracefully to his feet, and turning to see the pile of firewood he'd inadvertently set ablaze.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he left his last class of the day. He needed a bath, as he currently smelt distinctly of horse. As of today Alberich had decided there was little he could teach him now that he'd gotten him minding his lower outside line even when he was dead tired. Honestly Yozak didn't know why the man bothered, not many could keep up with him long enough to take advantage of that. Now he got the fun of having weapons class with Kerowyn, but he didn't see how she could be much worse than Alberich or the Captain.

He sighed as he walked back into the Collegium via one of the outside doors, and turned to make his way up the staircase to the second floor where the dorms and the baths were located. He'd gotten about halfway up the stairway when he ran into I'Ryn.

~~~***~~~

I'Ryn stared after Yozak's retreating back in shock. _Was she really acting so horribly? She just couldn't understand how this was happening. She was every man's type – tall but not too tall, long in the leg and curved in all the right places. In addition to that, she had rather nice breasts. Most men jumped at the chance to be with her, and not once in her life had anyone turned her down. She'd spent almost every day since she hit puberty beating men off with a stick, and yet here was Yozak. A hot, red haired, well built man who didn't seem even remotely interested in her! _

Yet he seemed very close to Conrart who was in many ways her male double. Yozak had said they'd been friends since they were very young, and informed her that her current antics were hampering any chance of them even becoming friends.

She was confused. Her every instinct was telling her he wasn't shaych, yet he didn't seem to show any romantic interest in her or any other woman for that matter. As to his comment about how she was acting, was she really being that much of a bitch? She honestly didn't mean to; she just wasn't used to men turning her down!

She was actually beginning to wonder if Yozak and Conrart were even human. Not because of their apparent lack of interest in her, but because of something she'd seen in both of their eyes this afternoon. Just a few minutes ago when Yozak had been furious with her, she'd noticed his very blue eyes for the first time. It wasn't the color of his eyes; she'd always found that to be one of his more attractive points. No, what she'd noticed had been the very prominent slit of his pupils. In that moment he looked like an infuriated tom cat! There was no denying the fact that his pupils were slit, and it made her wonder if what she'd seen earlier in Conrart's eyes and dismissed as a mere trick of the light was the same thing.

They looked completely human, yet their eyes were slit like a change child's. Was that what they were, or were they something else entirely?

She sighed, dismissing the thought as something to be pondered later, when she looked up into the faces of two of her brothers, cringing slightly at the look of surprised disgust on her twin's face - I'Ryk was definitely not pleased.

The young healer stood there with his arms crossed in front of him, one black brow raised, his brown eyes harder than she'd seen them in a very long time. Beside him, Tykir simply looked exasperated.

"What did you do?!" he finally hissed.

_Now it was time to face the music._

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he climbed out of his bedroom window. The sun was only just beginning to set and here he was scrambling out his window and across ledges to get into Conrart's room, because the younger man had locked the door and was refusing to answer. He wanted to skin I'Ryn right now—it was obvious that whatever had happened between him and Conrart earlier had shaken his friend more than he'd originally thought. Then I'Ryn had to go and rub Conrart's nose in his shortcomings, gloating about how frustrated Dirk was getting with Conrart's lack of progress and the fact that they'd had to call Herald Griffon over to put out the fire he'd accidentally started.

How dare she?!

How dare she make his best friend into the comic relief? Conrart didn't need that; he was having a hard enough time adjusting to life in Valdemar as it was. He didn't need some stuck up bitch of a Ningen making things worse. How she thought her little game of putting down Conrart was going to help her get him in bed, he didn't know. Nor did he particularly care!

Finally, he arrived at Conrart's shuttered window. He tugged lightly and found it locked! Not that that would ever keep him out. Muttering under his breath he slid his hand under the hem of his gray tunic, and liberated the small knife he had strapped to his hip. He slid the thin blade between the cracks in the shutters and deftly unlocked the window. Once he pulled them open, he dropped down inside. He was so preoccupied by his thoughts and concerns for his friend's emotional state, that he never noticed the figure that was carefully following him one floor up.

~~~***~~~

Herald Skif sat quietly on one of the window seats in the heraldic library, reading by the light streaming in through the window. It was nice to get away for a while; he'd only just come back from courier duty three days ago. It was good to be home; he loved his wife Nyara and their three adopted children, but every once in a while he needed a little time to himself – particularly with two children under the age of ten. His eldest daughter Elizabeth was 19, his son Jonathon had only just turned eight, and Elisa was not quite five. He smiled just thinking of his two rambunctious children, and their proud elder sibling. He'd found them four years ago at the end of one of his circuits.

Elizabeth had been changed during the mage-storms, which had killed her father. Afterwards, her mother had remarried to a man who regularly beat and semi-starved the poor little change child, especially after he'd fathered his own two children and her mother became ill. Once the poor woman had passed away, Elizabeth had taken her younger siblings and run, fearing the unrestrained temper of their father.

Skif had been beyond surprised when the small vixen change-child had shoved a baby into his arms and turned to face the mob following them, with a strung bow in one hand, shoving her little brother behind her with the other. The situation had taken three days and several rounds of the Truthspell to sort out. In the end, he'd brought the three of them home to Haven and legally became their father.

He and Nyara always wanted kids.

He yawned and looked up from his book, glancing out the window, only to see a head of orangey-red hair poke out of a window one story down and start moving. _What in the nine hells is Elizabeth up to? He didn't know she had any friends in the Heraldic Collegium__**. Wait**__—he was currently seated above the boy's dormitory! What was she doing down there? He was going to kill the man whose room she had just come out of! And why is she on the outside of the second story of the palace? She could be killed! And when did she learn roof walking? Oh Lord and lady, if Nyara saw this –_

_-he'd be sleeping on the sofa for the next month! There'd be no convincing his wife he hadn't been the one who taught the girl!_

With that in mind, and desperate to get to the girl before she missed a step and fell to her death, he pried the screen out of the window and went after her. It took him almost a full minute to realize a couple of very important facts. First, the figure was in grays, not greens. Second, the figure was lacking his daughter's fox ears and rather bushy tail. Third and most importantly, the Trainee in question was male.

_Well, well, well … somebody was in trouble! And for once it wasn't him. _

He shadowed the boy, noting that he stopped just shy of the end of the boys' dormitories. The young man tugged at a set of window shutters, and finding them locked, proceeded to produce a knife from somewhere under his clothing, and let himself in.

_Breaking and entering too… how unheraldic. _

He dropped down a floor with the practiced ease of a very experienced ex-thief, and listened to the conversation taking place within. Not that he understood a word of it, seeing as they were talking in a language he'd never heard before. He did notice that one voice – incidentally the higher of the two – was slightly muffled, as if the speaker was attempting to smother himself with a pillow. He edged along the thin ledge until he could perch himself comfortably against the trainee's bedroom window, and saw for himself why the red head had used the window rather than the door.

His friend obviously didn't feel like being disturbed if the bookcase that had been shoved in front of the door was any indication. The boy lay face down on the bed with his face buried in his pillow; the shaggy brown hair that formed a halo around his head reminded Skif of the deep brown mane of a male lion. If he had to guess, the boy was about Elizabeth's age. His friend was perched lightly on the bed beside him, his fox-red hair gleaming in the evening light. The redhead noticed the slight shift in the lighting, and looked up at him. Skif saw the boy's pupils, so like his beloved wife and daughter's, change to accommodate the difference in light. The slit of his pupils became more apparent as the boy's eyes caught the light.

He must've been a Change child then if the slits were anything to go by. Add to that the unheard of hair color and the oddly blue eyes… there was no mistaking the boy's origins. It would be nice to have another Change child on palace grounds, even if this one didn't bear as obvious changes as his eldest daughter.

"You know, I should scold you for this, but seeing as people don't normally roof walk unless they know what they're doing I'll let it slide this time, trainee. Besides, I visited several of my friends this way myself when I was your age."

To his surprise, the red-head laughed!

_: Yozak, Chosen; the boy's name is Yozak. : _Cymry informed him quietly.

"Somehow I doubt it." Yozak replied flippantly, before adding "So what can we do for you, Herald Skif?"

~~~***~~~

Yay another chapter. (spins in circle chasing own tail, yapping franticly). Read and review please.


	23. Contract

Chapter 23: Contract?

Conrart groaned, and buried his head further into his pillow at the sound of a voice other than Yozak's at his window. He so didn't want to deal with this!

_: It's really not that bad chosen, I can assure you trainees have done far worse, while learning to control their gifts.: Vanyel piped up in the back of his mind._

Conrart snorted into his pillow somehow he doubted that.

Yozak laughed as Herald Skif, also laughing, replied to his friend's less than serious response.

"Watch it, pup," Skif replied with mirth. "I may no longer be young, but I can still keep up with the likes of you."

Conrart didn't quite catch Yozak's retort, but Skif laughed, and he heard the sound Skif's boots made as the man climbed nimbly in through the window. The sound was so soft he probably wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't already been used to listening for the soft click of Yozak's boots as the former spy slipped into his rooms at night.

"I knew I should have put the desk against the door and used the bookcase to block that damned window," Conrart muttered as he finally unearthed himself from his pillow and rolled over.

The two men laughed heartily at his comment. "Aw, you sound like you don't want visitors, Taisa*." Yozak quipped.

Conrart groaned, grabbed hold of his pillow, and smacked his friend with it. "I don't," he retorted, then added "Not that you ever cared before, so why should I expect you to start now?"

"Ouch, I'm hurt." Yozak retorted sarcastically. "Perhaps I would, if you weren't so inclined to brood over spilt milk."

"This is a bit more than spilt milk," Conrart replied incredulously as soon as he regained his power of speech. Honestly after 123 years, he should have been used to Yozak's gift for understatements.

"So you set some wood on fire," Yozak retorted mildly. "Accidents happen; you curse like the soldier you are and get the fuck over it, Captain." He made certain to emphasize his rank.

Conrart blushed at his friend's subtle way of informing him he was being childish. Whatever he might have said was cut off by the man currently perched on his desk.

"So that was you," Skif said calmly, shifting around so that he sat cross-legged on top of the desk. "Nice— I heard Griffin had to put that one out. I had assumed it was his student… I believe his name is Justin, but since that was you… are you a firestarter as well?"

Conrart closed his eyes briefly, feeling his ears heat up. He must have been redder than Yozak's hair! "No I'm not a firestarter," he said quietly.

"Then how did you -" Skif began asking.

"I don't know." Conrart replied, dragging his pillow back over his face.

A familiar hand patted his shoulder briefly, and he heard Yozak mutter soothing words in their own language, words he hadn't heard in years. After a moment, Skif spoke. "What are your gifts and what were you trying to do when the fire started?"

Conrart sighed and sat up, holding his pillow lightly in front of him. It took a few minutes, but he recounted the tale of what had happened earlier.

Herald Skif hadn't moved from where he sat perched atop his desk; Yozak, however, had moved. The redhead had gone from sitting quietly at the foot of his bed to sitting calmly by his side. The man had also somehow managed to pry the pillow out of his grasps while he explained the situation.

After a minute, Skif spoke. "That's odd; I thought fetching was the ability to transport an object - or if you're strong enough, a person – from one spot to another instantaneously. However, it sounds like you're pulling objects… so if someone with the Fetching gift is simply pulling an object towards them or pushing it away at a high velocity, how do they retrieve things from inside a building?"

For one moment Conrart was beyond confused. He'd never been able to pull anything through a wall. In his experience, if things were in the way they simply got plowed over. With a sigh, he looked up at Skif. "How is that possible?" he asked after a moment's thought.

Skif looked at him for almost a full minute, and he resisted the completely ridiculous urge to hide behind Yozak. Finally the Herald spoke. "Do me a favor, Trainee," Skif said quietly, pulling what looked like taffy out of his pocket. "Fetch this."

Conrart sighed. "Are you sure about that? I might hurt you." He replied, not really wanting to admit to it.

At Skif's nod, he closed his eyes and reached for his gift. After pulling up only the smallest thread of power, he carefully tugged at the taffy, only to have Skif close his hand the second the little candy started to move. He gave a slightly sharper tug, feeling the candy strain against the barrier of the man's fingers.

"That's enough, Trainee." Skif said after a second.

Conrart gratefully ceased his efforts to liberate the candy from the man's grasp.

Skif sighed, "How exactly are you envisioning the candy getting to you?" he asked calmly.

"Well, leaving your hand and coming to mine." He replied. _It was obvious, wasn't it?_

After a moment, the Herald spoke again. "I think you may be going about this the wrong way, Trainee. I don't have the Fetching Gift, but I've spoken with many who do. From what I understand, it's not the journey, it's the destination. Try envisioning the taffy simply disappearing from my hand and reappearing in yours, and let's see where that gets you."

Conrart sighed; he didn't see how that would work, but at this point he was desperate. Closing his eyes, he did as he was told, imagining the little white taffy simply appearing in his hand, and tugged with his gift. There was a soft pop, and a weight briefly smacked into his palm before skimming off and smacking him lightly in the chest.

He opened his eyes and looked down . . . the little candy had come to rest lightly in his lap. Carefully he picked it up, and gaped at it for a second in stunned disbelief before holding the little thing out to Skif. The Herald smiled and opened his now empty hand.

"Well done, Conrart," he said cheerfully. "Now practice that until what you're trying to fetch stays in your hand."

Conrart inclined his head briefly. "My thanks," he said politely.

Skif inclined his head in return. "So when did the two of you have a run in with an active Change Circle?" he asked.

Conrart glanced over at Yozak who shrugged. "What?" Yozak asked at the same time as his own "I beg your pardon?"

"Your eyes," Skif replied simply, gesturing vaguely at his eyes. "The pupils are slit like a cat's; I'm assuming you weren't born that way."

He glanced over at Yozak again; so much more than mere words passing between them before they both broke out laughing. "Actually, we were." Yozak said after he managed to get a hold of himself. What followed was a lengthy and in-depth discussion of their world and the Tribes that inhabited it.

~~~***~~~

Conrart sighed and closed his eyes; Yozak had helped him to relocate his bookcase several hours before, just prior to Herald Skif leaving the room via the window again. I'Ryn had come over shortly afterwards, and apologized for her earlier behavior. The woman had been a bit alarmed at finding them together – as she had hoped to deal with them on an individual basis.

Conrart accepted her apology readily enough, much to Yozak's amusement. The man had often teased Conrart about his apparent lack of temper. The three of them actually had a nice dinner together – and I'Ryn told them all about the year she'd spent as a journeyman bard. In return, they told her a bit of their lives, and threatened the former bard with bodily harm should any of it wind up in a ballad somewhere.

He shifted around in his bed, trying vainly to get comfortable, and dragged his pillow over his head in a futile attempt to drown out his neighbor's overzealous nocturnal activities. Finally, he got up and left his room, muttering to himself as he made his way down the hall to Yozak's room. Between his neighbors' sex life and his own nightmares it was a wonder he ever got any sleep. The light in Yozak's room was on, but he reached for his friend's mind anyway, receiving a rush of warmth and welcome in return.

He opened the door and slipped into the room, freezing slightly at the sight of Queen's Own Talia, who was seated quietly in Yozak's desk chair. With a sigh, he flopped down onto Yozak's bed beside the other man, eyes half closed with fatigue.

Yozak chuckled. "Your neighbor entertaining again?" he asked.

He groaned in response before muttering, "They're both at it tonight".

"Get some sleep then, Taisa," Yozak said sympathetically, patting his thigh lightly.

Yozak rose from his bed, and Conrart followed suit, standing quietly out of the way as Yozak turned down his covers. Conrart took a step forward, fully intending to curl up against the wall and sleep for a week, only to have Yozak swing around and scoop him up into his arms.

Before he had a chance to even protest, he was in bed with the covers pulled up around his shoulders. He glared playfully at his friend, a yawn foiling his attempt to look annoyed. Yozak just grinned in response. He closed his eyes and rolled over, listening quietly to Yozak and Talia as they discussed Yozak's gift of empathy.

He was comfortable, warm, and above all, he knew he was safe with Yozak. Despite his long cultivated instinct to never fall asleep in vulnerable situation, Yozak's presence was soothing, and before he quite knew what was happening he'd fallen asleep.

He woke slightly less than an hour later to the comforting and familiar feeling of Yozak's arms wrapping lightly around him. He closed his eyes again and shifted around until he was lying comfortably in his friend's embrace.

Briefly he wondered if they were just perhaps a little too intimate… but he fell asleep again before he could give it another thought.

~~~***~~~

Conrart sighed as he sat quietly on the riverbank where Dirk had left him a few hours ago fetching leaves, twigs and small river stones, in an effort to fine tune his newly gained control. He tried his best to ignore the Dessteir swirling around him. The little water elements were more abundant here close to the wide rushing river, and they hovered all around him. They were calling his name, frolicking in his hair, twining around his arms, flowing around his wrists and winding through his fingers like thin serpents of living water.

_: Contract,: _they whispered repeatedly into his mind, and he noticed the curious absence of Vanyel. It seemed – for the moment at least – his Companion had abandoned him to their mercies.

_: I can't. : _he replied, sadly.

He'd repeated the same thing every time he came near any body of water larger than a cup since the day he set foot in Valdemar_._ The little things were persistent though; in Shin Makoku, they had followed him around for as long as he could remember, but they'd never actually spoken to him…

Now he couldn't get the things to shut up!

_: Contract.: _The Dessteir whispered again, floating around in front of him, foiling his concentration and in general just making pests of themselves.

Finally, beyond annoyed, he snapped_ : Fine, I'll try it! But it's not going to work, I'm only a half-breed. :_

The Dessteir seemed annoyed by the half-breed comment. _: Not matter. : _One of the little things whispered into his mind as it came forward, alighting on his palm. _: Still elemental, we were meant to live as one, Element and Elemental. :_

Conrart sighed, and closed his eyes. The Contract between Mazoku and Element was sacred, and the act of finally forging that contract was a very big event in the life of a young Mazoku. It signified the end of their childhood and the coming of adulthood. By law he technically wasn't an adult until that contract had been formed. By tradition, only those who could form an Elemental contract were allowed to bear witness to one. This meant that Nicola would never be allowed to watch her son forge his own contract, assuming that she even lived that long.

He remembered the day Wolfram had forged his contract well.

It was a mark of his own inferiority that he'd been barred from witnessing the event and locked in his rooms by Stoffel, while the rest of his family celebrated the blessed occasion. Years later when Yuri had finally forged his elemental contracts, tradition had barred him from viewing that as well—he'd spent the time doing his best to entertain a very annoyed Greta while his king and country celebrated.

Unable to do anything more than wish his beloved king and godchild well, he was forced to trust in Gwendal's ability to keep the boy safe. He'd never told Yuri that neither he nor Greta had been allowed to attend the ceremonies or the celebrations. To this day, the young king still thought he'd simply missed seeing him because he'd gone to sleep early.

The problem was now, years later, he had no idea how to go about forging a contract of his own – even if he didn't think it was going to work. Closing his eyes briefly, he reached for the little elemental with his mind. _: I don't know how, : _he admitted after a second, knowing that the little creature would never be able to comprehend what the admission had cost him in terms of pride.

_: We show. : _the little thing replied simply.

~~~***~~~

An hour later Conrart lay beside the river, his energy completely spent. He was sopping wet from his foolish attempt to prove to the little elemental beings that nothing had changed and he was just as powerless as ever. He coughed and spat water from his mouth while the elements not currently residing within him in the form of the contract itself floated happily around him… he could have sworn they were laughing at him!

Idly, he wondered whether he'd swallowed a fish, when the river rose up in a wave and glomped him.

That was the last time he ever gestured wildly around a body of water!

He moaned and attempted to get up, only to have his knees buckle underneath him. Utterly exhausted he simply lay there, feeling curiously as if he was floating, cradled in the still waters of a calm lake. He shifted around and closed his eyes, wishing the day was warmer. He'd rest for a moment, before calling out to Vanyel and making his way back to the Collegium and his dorm.

He didn't expect to fall asleep.

He woke to a soft velvety nose shoving his shoulder; it was a lot harder than it should have been to open his eyes. He blinked up at Vanyel; he was cold despite the fact that the stallion was curled up around him like he was a foal. He shivered slightly, noting the setting sun, and the pounding headache behind his eyes. He also noticed that it was a lot brighter in the shadows of the little grotto than it should have been.

_: You need to get up now, Chosen. If you stay out here much longer you'll catch cold. : _Vanyel told him quietly.

He whimpered at the quiet voice in his mind, _Shinou that hurt. _He rose shakily to his feet only to have his knees buckle again; he grabbed wildly for Vanyel's mane. His fingers snagged hair and the Companion lowered them both to the ground.

Vanyel sighed. _: You overused your gift with that stunt with the river. I'm not surprised you're tired. Incidentally, Jissa tells me Yozak managed to put himself in a similar situation not too long ago. You'll be happy to know that the healers have given him a clean bill of health and ordered him to bed early. He'll be fine in the morning. But then again, he didn't attempt to flood the surrounding area. :_

_: Um sorry…: _Conrart muttered in response.

The Companion nickered softly at that. _: You have nothing to apologize for, Chosen. It was an accident, and I can assure we've all had our fair share of them. I know of a young herald mage who moved the palace foundations about an inch to the left as the result of a nightmare. :_

The distinctive noise of hooves sloshing through mud met his ears and he glanced up, noting that the mare now standing near him was mud-spattered up to her knees. Kerowyn swung down off her Companion, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do I even want to know, dæmonling?" she asked.

He laughed weakly at that.

She knelt in the mud beside him, pulling his arm over her shoulder, and wrapped one of her own around his waist. Carefully she helped him to his feet, and he leaned against her, trying desperately not to fall over. Vanyel rose up until he was in the equine equivalent of a bow. Kerowyn steadied him carefully while she helped him to mount. As soon as he was situated, Vanyel rose gracefully to his hooves and waited. Kerowyn swung up onto Sayvil, and together they made the long trek back to the Collegium.

To his utter humiliation, after getting him to his room, Kerowyn proceeded to strip him with a brisk efficiency any military officer would have coveted, and got him tucked into bed with the covers up to his chin before he could finish protesting the indecency of the incident. With that done, she stepped aside and let a very amused Healer Dolan dose him with something foul tasting.

His head cleared, but he was asleep again before he could fully appreciate that fact.

~~~***~~~

A.N. Okay so there you have it another chapter, and both Conrart and Yozak have their Contracts. And don't worry you will be seeing a lot more of the companions. They are after all an important part of a herald's being. Any way read and review please. I'm trapped in suburbia and it's driving me bonkers. So please read and review it makes my day.


	24. Yozak gets his whites

Chapter 24: Yozak gets his Whites

Yozak laughed as he talked quietly with Conrart. In the two years that had passed since two white horses had pranced merrily into their lives, and proceeded to turn them upside down, many things had changed. For one thing, Conrart actually smiled now, the same smile he'd grown so fond of when they were little. He'd grown his hair out as well; the man's once military short hair now fell to his shoulders. I'Ryn had also become a good friend of theirs. Their friendship had had a rocky start, but it had blossomed quite nicely once the woman accepted the fact that he simply wasn't interested in her romantically.

The former Bard had left on the start of her internship just two months ago; ironically, her younger brother Tykir was her mentor. Yozak glanced down at his own white uniform and closed his eyes briefly, knowing he would soon follow suit. He should be happy, and he was . . . he just didn't want to think about how hard it was going to be. It had been two years since the last time he and Conrart had been apart for more than a day or two at most. It would be weird sleeping alone and waking without Conrart by his side. It was odd; their relationship was still completely platonic, but not a day went by that didn't find him waking with the younger man in his arms. It didn't matter whether they were in his room or Conrart's.

I'Ryn, Tykir and Austin often teased them; saying that they were "lifebonded" and it was "cute". But they both knew better; they were just really close. He smiled and tugged the still gray sleeve of Conrart's shirt to get the younger man's attention, even though he knew all he really had to do was reach out with his mind.

Kerowyn stood quietly by the archery range, instructing a new batch of trainees in the use of a bow. The Herald nodded to them as they made their way onto the archery range, ignoring the bows and quivers full of arrows entirely.

They were here for target practice of a different sort.

He and Conrart stood well back from the targets.

_: Would you like to go first, or should I? : _Conrart said into his mind.

Yozak's reply was laced with mischievous humor_: Who says we have to take turns, eh, Taisa? Why not have some fun and awe the younglings together? :_

Conrart chuckled_ :Will you ever grow up my friend? :_

_: Not if I can help it, Taisa. Grown-ups are no fun! : _Yozak replied with all seriousness.

_: You're 145 years old Yozak. Will you ever act your age? :_

_: I've never been this age before, Taisa. So how can I possibly know how to act it? : _Yozak retorted_._

Conrart sputtered, an interesting accomplishment considering the fact that it was purely mental.

: _You know what your problem is, Taisa? You worry too much_. : Yozak continued.

Conrart flushed, but grabbed the bit and took off with their playful bantering. _: A good thing seeing as you worry too little! :_

Yozak shrugged. _: In all honesty, I'll act my age as soon as you learn to act yours. You're only 137—perhaps it's time you had some fun and let go of the past. :_

Apparently he'd touched a sore spot as water flared from Conrart's palm, and consolidated into a sinuous serpent-like dragon, with powerful crushing jaws, two long flowing whiskers, and four talon-like feet! _: Do you intend to exercise your Majutsu as well as your mouth? : _He asked as his water dragon shot across the field, and crashed into one of the straw targets, binding it up in sinuous coils and lifting it into the air in a show of fine control that it had taken him nearly a year to develop.

"Touchy" Yozak retorted before flicking his own palm up and calling on his own element. The air collected in his palm briefly before exploding outwards, consolidating into a falcon as it did so. The bird swept wings of air back and swooped for the target held aloft by Conrart's Maryoku.

_Seriously, sometimes Conrart really did need to lighten up and have some fun!_

~~~***~~~

Yozak smiled lightly and swung his saddle bags over his shoulder. It was almost time to go. In roughly an hour, he and Jissa would be off on their internship ride, accompanying Herald Koren on his circuit up to Lake Evendim and back. The whole trek would last about 15 months, and take him across areas of Valdemar he'd only heard of before in books and lessons. He was looking forward to seeing more of this world; he hadn't stayed in the same place for longer than a month or two in nearly 30 years! Truthfully, ha had begun to lose patience with school, and the enforced sedimentary it demanded. The only thing that would make 15 months spent in the saddle better was if Conrart were coming with him.

But alas, that wouldn't be happening.

In the last year, Conrart's classes had diverged from the courses he and most other trainees were taking when their teachers had realized that there was an open, diplomatic, and highly cunning mind lurking behind that impassive mask. The classes that Conrart had begun taking had become far more tailored to the lifestyle he would be leading as soon as he got his Whites.

He was very glad of Conrart's help in relocating everything he'd acquired in the past two years from his room in the boy's dormitory to his room in the Herald's wing last week. He also knew very well that the mere fact that Conrart had just about taken up residence in his rooms only added fuel to the fires as far as the budding rumor mill went. But they'd weathered far worse than the teasing of the Heraldic Trainees. Conrart would be in class when he left; as such, he was even more grateful for the few hours of quiet they'd shared this morning.

He closed the door to his quarters, not even bothering to lock them as he left. He'd given Conrart an open invitation to "crash" in his rooms whenever his neighbors entertained company. He had the feeling Conrart would be using them a lot. One of his original neighbors may well have been granted his Whites, but his new neighbor was just as fond of nocturnal activity.

He resisted the urge to run his hand along the aged Golden Oak panels on the wall, and smiled as he passed the large double doors. Yozak paused briefly, glancing back over his shoulder at the entrance to the Herald's Wing. It was odd to think about, but generations upon generations of Heralds and Herald-mages had lived behind those doors. Lived, loved, served Valdemar, and in some cases even raised families behind those doors. A week ago he had become one of them, but he still felt vaguely inferior. They were tried and tested Heralds, and he was a trainee whose uniform had accidently been bleached white.

He shook his head – and reminded himself that he was no untried youngster. He'd been on the frontlines watching his friends die when a good many of the Heralds were still soiling their night-wrappings! He was about a century older than some of them, older still in other cases. He'd been in the military longer than any of them had even been alive! So he didn't understand why the concept of his own internship ride made him feel this way!

_: Because it's something new to you Chosen. For all the years you've lived, all the things you've seen, and all the roles you've played, this one is new. This one you'd never considered, and this one isn't an act. It isn't a role you're playing for a few days to gather information to protect your people, your king, and your country. It's who you are now, who you were always meant to be. That's what scares you. : _Jissa told him gently.

He considered that for a moment and then conceded.

He blinked once as he stepped into the light beyond the doorway and into the world outside of the castle. He'd always marveled at the differences between the Palace at Haven and Covenant Castle. Covenant Castle (also known as Blood Pledge Palace) was built for defense on the high ground above the capital city. The Castle was made mostly of courtyards with ornamental flower beds and fountains, with the training grounds thrown in for good measure. The vast majority of the palace's plant life was regulated to a small garden for the pleasure of the royal family and visiting nobles, and Lady Cecelia's greenhouse. That excluded the little box of flowers growing on what used to be Conrart's window ledge.

Conrart wouldn't admit it, but he had inherited his mother's love of gardening and flowering plants in general.

Yozak sighed and continued his trek out to the stables. When he got there, Jissa was waiting for him outside in the Courtyard, her coat gleaming in the early afternoon light. Her gear lay in a neat pile at her side. He gaped at her, ignoring the other Companion mare that stood beside her with her Herald, and completely oblivious to the two pack mules that were tethered nearby.

In the two years that he'd known her, Jissa had never been less than clean, and never anything less than stunning. Part of that was his own meticulous hand with a curry comb and brush, and the rest of it was her own natural tendency to stay clean. Right now however, she looked like a little piece of the heavens given equine form! She reminded him of that time long ago when he and Conrart had run into what was truly the most elusive and gentle creature in their world.

Unicorns.

They'd been lucky enough to see an entire herd of them.

He shook his head to clear it of the old but life changing memory. He looked at Jissa again, and she still gleamed. He'd been down here this morning to give her a quick brushing before going upstairs to pack what he would need for the trip. He'd come back down fully expecting to give the mare a more thorough brushing down before he saddled her.

Yet here she was, with her coat brushed till it shown! Glancing down at his tack he discovered that it too had been meticulously cleaned, oiled, and polished. It damned well looked new! He sputtered in surprise, his tongue refusing to answer his commands.

_: Conrart brushed me. : _Jissa told him_. : Then he went over every bit of my gear with an oiled rag until everything shown and nothing creaked. I think the only thing that stopped him from tacking me up for you was that Vanyel reminded him he was going to be late for class. : _

Yozak chuckled, that sounded like Conrart alright. "Knowing Conrart, I'm surprised he didn't bring you an apple." He said calmly, reaching out with one hand to pet her nose.

The mare whickered an equine chuckle _: Actually, he brought Vanyel and me pears. With how often Conrart brings Vanyel fruit, I'm honestly surprised Vanyel hasn't gotten fat! :_

Yozak laughed at that. It was true; even in Shin Makoku, Conrart had always brought an apple or some other kind of fruit to his mount, and no one could understand just how he managed to keep his horse from becoming too round to walk! With a sigh, he set his bags down on the floor beside the rest of their gear.

He bent down and scooped up Jissa's saddle blanket, which Conrart had left resting on top of the saddle. A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor as he settled the blanket at her withers. He picked the little scrap of paper up and tucked it into the small pouch he still carried at his breast, before gathering up the saddle and ornamental hackamore to finish tacking up his Companion.

_His Companion… somehow he never got tired of hearing that!_

He settled the tack into place with the ease of long practice, and patted Jissa's shoulder before he set about attaching his gear to the snaffles and saddle skirting. He got everything carefully into place before turning and seeing to the supplies Jissa wasn't going to be carrying. It was a new experience using a pack mule to carry the bulk of his gear. All Jissa would actually be carrying was the necessities –

A spare set of Whites, his weapons, his bedroll, and anything else he'd need on hand if they were forced to leave the pack mules behind. The mule snorted at him, and scrapped one hoof against the stones. Yozak raised an eyebrow and reached for the ornery beast with his Animal Mindspeech. The gelding snorted, but let him load up the supplies.

"You handled that rather well," A man he didn't know said from somewhere behind him to his left.

Yozak turned and took in the man before him. He was relatively tall, maybe an inch or two shorter than Conrart. Black hair fell past his shoulders and was held out of his face by a series of small meticulous braids. His ice blue eyes shone with a fierce light, and by his clothing Yozak guessed that the man had never met a color he didn't like. He guessed the man to be about 21.

"High praise coming from one of the Shin'a'in clansmen," Yozak replied. "My thanks."

The man watched him for a moment before extending his hand. "Kre'esha shena Tale'sedrin"

Yozak clasped the man's hand readily enough. "Yozak Gurrier," he replied evenly. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but are you one of Kero's cousins?"

Kre'esha chuckled, "Aye, in a way; my father is one of her cousins."

Yozak inclined his head. "So what brings you to Valdemar, business or pleasure?"

"A bit of both, actually. My father hopes to sell some of our saddle horses to your queen, and I was hoping to see Herald Koren again. Have you seen him?"

Yozak suppressed a chuckle at the emotions rolling off the man at the mere mention of Herald Koren. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the man's general direction. "He's over there."

Kre'esha smiled. "My thanks; by the way, however did you get your hair that color? The combination of dyes must have been murder to come up with. But it's a lovely color, accents your eyes well. You must tell me, however did you achieve it?"

Yozak blinked, and then laughed aloud. "Thank you, but I'm afraid I was born with it."

"Hmm… I've never seen that color before, and I've been traveling for a long time. Where are you from?" Kre'esha replied.

"No place you would have heard of." Yozak replied mildly.

Kre'esha raised an eyebrow.

Yozak sighed. "Shin Makoku's not reachable by horseback." He said simply.

"Ah, I see." Kre'esha replied. "Well, it was nice talking to you."

With that, he was gone, walking over to speak with Koren. Yozak shook his head, leaned up against Jissa and took out the paper from earlier. Opening it, he recognized Conrart's neat slightly slanted script. It wasn't that hard, seeing how it was written in the Demon Tongue.

_Yozak,_

_Be safe, have fun, and come back in one piece. _

_Same rules apply; if you get yourself killed, I swear to Shinou I'll never speak to you again!_

_~ Conrart_

_P.S. Isn't it nice to be going on a mission that doesn't require you to wear a dress?_

Yozak couldn't help it; he laughed aloud, shaking his head at the antics only he ever really got to see. He folded the little note up and slipped it back into the pouch at his breast. Folding his arms across his chest, he ran his right arm over his bicep, feeling the stiff leather of one of his arm bands under his uniform shirt. They were comforting in their familiarity.

He started wearing them years ago when he first became a spy, originally as accent pieces to many of his costumes, since armbands had been and to some extent still were the height of fashion in Shin Makoku and the surrounding human countries. Being a soldier, he never really had cause to wear armbands, let alone the purely ornamental armbands often worn by courtly ladies. The damned things had pissed him off to no end when he first started wearing them, so he'd taken to wearing them all the time. In some ways it was kind of funny—he became a spy after Conrart had taken Yuri's soul to earth, partly because he'd thought his friend dead and had wanted to join him. Yet somehow, he'd never been able to bring himself to do something stupid.

Yozak had found himself unable to dishonor his friend's memory. He remembered the day the mysterious bond between them had flared back to life after years of dormancy. He remembered watching his friend from a distance, wondering at the clothing he was wearing and the sudden lack of the predatory grace he'd always attributed with Conrart. He wanted to kill his friend for the years of pain he'd put him through, wanting to drop down off of the tavern roof he was sitting on and knock some sense into his friend's thick skull!

Conrart should have seen him; Conrart, who had always watched everywhere including up for trouble. Conrart, who was walking unarmed through the lower district of the capital city, wearing the weirdest outfit he'd ever seen, It consisted of fitted mostly dark-blue leggings of a course material that were faded in some places, a strange looking, short and loose tunic with no undershirt. He later learned that what Conrart was wearing was called jeans and a t-shirt. He followed his friend for about two blocks before he lost his temper with the fact that Conrart seemed oblivious to his presence, and attempted to tackle his friend as the man slipped into a back alley.

Conrart had simply rolled away and tossed him into a nearby rubbish heap. The shouting match that followed was one of the most intense of their friendship. He called Conrart everything from an insensitive lout to pompous jackass, and had then proceeded to rant at him in several different languages, describing lewd acts he knew damned well were not anatomically possible and demanding to know how Conrart could have put his friends and family through the pain and heartbreak of thinking he was dead for so many years, not allowing the other man to get a word in edge wise until he'd finished ripping him several new orifices. Conrart shouted at him to 'shut up and listen already' the whole time before he finally managed to inform him of The Great One's part in the whole fiasco!

He shook his head and pulled himself out of his memories, smiling at the thought of Conrart. The armband he was currently wearing had been a gift from the younger man 4 years ago. The leather was stiff but soft, with a small red dyed fox set into the center. It was one of his favorite and most worn pieces. The sleeve of his white shirt covered it from view unless the sun hit the fabric just right. Even so, the only thing to be seen of it was the red of the fox. He chuckled to himself—one of Conrart's first gifts to him had been a little copper fox charm. The then thirteen year old boy had simply informed him that the color of his hair reminded him of a fox's coat. The charm held a place of honor inside of the little pouch he wore at his breast, and had for a very long time. It gave him strength the few times he'd ever been in a tight spot.

He swung up into his saddle at Jissa's prompting, bidding Conrart a silent goodbye as they turned and left the Palace behind. He turned his head briefly, watching his home fade from view. It was odd how quickly Valdemar and Haven had become home.

~~~***~~~

A.N. okay another chapter posted. I'm afraid I've almost run out of prewritten and edited chapters so in a few months the chapters are going to be coming a bit slower I'll try to keep it at a weekly basis. Reviews help. Ask questions make comments people they help to give my muse a kick in the rump occasionally. It looks like my coauthors and I will be separated for a year rather than just 7 months so bare with us. Conrad is contracted to water and Yozak to air. For those of you who think it should be the other way around so did we at first – but being the science majors that we are – we researched and our hypothesis and it proved false. According to the things we researched Conrad's personality is closer to the description of a water element and Yozak's with air.


	25. insurt your favorite term for drunk here

Chapter 25: Insert your favorite term for drunk here.

Deek sighed as he steered his horse up the main street into Haven's merchant district. He hadn't been back here in years. He'd lived in the slums of Haven for the vast majority of his childhood, such that it was. He was quite the experienced thief before an unexpected growth-spurt had ruined his prospects in the lucrative business of cat-burglary. However, it at least had put him on the path to a well paying honest job with lots of room for advancement, and advance he did! He'd started out as an underling helping to guard a gem merchant's caravans against thieves. Who better than an ex-thief to point out the weaknesses that thieves exploited. Now, years later, he was the captain of the Caravans' guards.

He noted a young pickpocket working his trade off to the side of the street, lifting the belt-purse off some over confident young noble out celebrating Beltane. He didn't say a word for several reasons—the first was that the boy looked half-starved, and he knew how it felt to go to sleep hungry. Second, the noble was already beyond drunk, and his purse looked mostly empty. Lastly, the noble looked as if he could afford to lose a little wealth, if his now destroyed red velvet jerkin was any indication.

He glanced back at the Caravan with its guards and merchants. This was their last stop for a while. The merchants and the Caravan's beasts would be resting here and selling their goods under the watchful eyes of Haven's guard. This meant that he and his men had time to relax, unwind, and sightsee. He'd warned his men earlier to stick to the upper and middle class districts in their drinking, gaming, and wenching. He knew what the lesser districts of the proud capital city were like, having grown up there himself.

He'd be thankful when they finished here, so that he could collect his pay, leave his horse with the rest of the Caravan's beasts, and go find a quiet tavern to hole up in for a few hours.

~~~***~~~

Skif groaned into his mug of ale. Today was Beltane, and he'd discovered this morning that his eldest daughter had celebrated May Eve in the company of Healer I'Ryk. He wasn't drinking to escape his problems, not at all—no, he was drinking to keep himself from skinning the man! His Companion Cymry, was fine with the excursion as long as he didn't get drunk. He chose the Griffin's Egg over any of the other taverns in Haven for the simple reason that it was a relatively nice establishment that wasn't frequented by guildsmen, trainees, or bards! No herald in their right minds went to a tavern full of bards voluntarily!

--Even if they weren't in Whites.

He took a swig of his golden ale, trying not to swear like the lowborn boy he'd once been. It was harder then he would have thought possible. Heralds weren't exactly a chaste bunch, and neither were Healers. He'd always know and accepted that fact, but this was different.

This was _HIS DAUGHTER! _

He glanced up as two men wandered into the tavern both talking animatedly about what they'd been doing over the past years, and speculating over the rider of a certain Companion mare. Skif snorted, glad he wasn't wearing his Whites—he didn't want to deal with other people's problems right now! He glared back down into his mug, and took another long swig, ignoring Cymry's playful chiding, refusing to surface from the mug of ale until someone called out his name inquiringly.

It wasn't a voice he recognized.

That ruled out any of the Heralds, Healers, Bards, and the bulk of the Mages and trainees from all four circles. Any of them would have addressed him as 'Herald Skif' or in the case of another Herald the honorific would have been Brother. Curious, he raised his head and looked around. The two men who had just come in stood a few feet away, oddly silent as their eyes met. For a moment, he was rendered entirely speechless.

He closed his mouth with an audible snap. "Deek, Lyle?" he gasped. "Is that you?!"

The two men nodded and suddenly Deek burst out laughing. "Well, looks like the w'ole family's getting back toget'er; who's going to show up now, Raf? By now I know old Bazie's dead of old age, unless you say ot'erwise!"

Skif winced at memories of flames rising high into the sky late one night at the mention of old Bazie's name. He knew his former colleagues would have no idea how their old mentor had died. As for Raf, he didn't know what had become of his former friend after he'd been caught. He closed his eyes briefly, and then set his mug down.

"Nay, my old friend; Bazie is long dead, along with the two new boys he'd taken in. A fire in the night while I was out lifting to feed us all," he said simply, kicking out a pair of stools for the two men to sit upon. _I'd have foolishly died along with them if it wasn't for Alberich. _He thought mildly, closing his eyes against remembered pain. He relaxed, feeling the pain recede as Cymry wrapped him in a protective blanket of love and comfort.

When he opened his eyes again, Deek and Lyle had taken the offered stools, and Lyle was currently ordering himself a glass of red ale from the lovely young waitress Deek was currently eyeing. He frowned. He'd hate to have to arrest his former friend and brother, but he was a Herald regardless of his lack of uniform, and this was a respectable establishment where the only thing for sale was the ale, the food, and the rooms upstairs, not the company of the tavern maids. If Deek stepped out of line, he'd find himself tossed out on his ear, respectable law-abiding citizen or not!

When the tavern maid turned her attention to him, Skif ordered another pint, and tried not to gape like a ninny when Deek ordered a pitcher of Cyszer. It was relatively new to Valdemar, having come over from White Gryphon, with the Kalend'a'in a little more than a decade ago. Cyszer may have looked and tasted like apple cider, but it was most definitely not. In fact, it was among the strongest drinks to be found anywhere, if not the strongest! A single shot of the stuff took lightweights into the realm of drunken idiocy. A mug-full was usually enough to knock anyone else on their ass. The most he'd ever seen anyone drink was two mugs full.

The normally heavy-weight guard who did so had spent the next day hanging over a privy for his troubles!

The fact that Deek had ordered an entire pitcher full of the stuff truly startled him. "I hope you're not expecting any help drinking that." He chuckled.

"No, not much, though the two of you are more than welcome to share a round, if you think you're man enough." Deek replied with humor.

Skif snorted derisively. "Thank you, but no; I'm rather fond of my stomach lining, and Nyara would have my hide if I came home that drunk!"

Lyle laughed. "I can understand that—my wife would not be 'appy if I came 'ome drunk eit'er."

"Am I the only free man left in the group?" Deek asked mildly. "Having to worry 'bout what the wife would be thinking should I come home drunk? Watching you two makes me glad I aint never settled down!"

Lyle laughed again. "You're just mad I got me a misses, a litter of children, a few grandkids, and a good plot of farmland, you wandering old dog," he joked as the tavern maid handed them all their beverages of choice.

Deek pulled a passable counterfeit of annoyance, but Skif could read the man's body language with ease. "I'll have you know I enjoy roving," he retorted.

They all laughed.

"So," Deek said after the moment had passed. "Lyle tells me he settled down with a nice farm girl and had a family" The man took a sip of his Cyszer before continuing, "but it seems to me that you haven't told us what you've been up to these past few years."

Skif took a swig of his ale. "What have I been up to these long years?" he asked. "Well, let's see—I met a lovely lady by the name of Cymry, who proceeded to turn my life on its ear and made me an honest man. I was there when the war with Ancar broke out; saw firsthand what he and his men did to their captives when they got their hands on a friend of mine. Worked undercover for a few years dealing with refugees from Hardorn, took a trip to exotic lands, met Nyara, and fell in love. Then I came home and settled down. I went from being an honest thief with barely any family to speak of to a slightly devious man of action, with three kids, a wife, and a lovely lady with whom I spend an inordinate amount of time, and what amounts to the biggest extended family you could ever think of."

He smirked at the look on both of their faces.

"You sly dog," Deek crowed.

Lyle gaped at him, his mouth hanging open comically. "Does your wife know about this other lady?!" he cried, aghast.

Skif took another swig of his ale before replying, "About Cymry? Lord Dark and Lady Bright, of course she does! I'd never get any work done, and how in the nine hells would I explain the long absences from Haven otherwise?"

He shifted in his stool and took another swig of ale, taking note of the newest tavern patron. Wearing the clothing of a civilian rather than his trainee grays, he stood out rather drastically amongst the milling middleclass and noblemen as 'out kingdom nobility'. It wasn't surprising since he was wearing his own clothing. Having been given a uniform to wear, with another one in the foreseeable future, neither Conrart nor Yozak had ever bothered to buy Valdemaran street clothing.

"Conrart," he called, waving the young man over. "Come join us."

Conrart inclined his head and ambled over.

Deek eyed the young noble warily, noting the expensive fabrics of his long-sleeved, high necked white over-tunic, with its deep blue trim, matching blue under shirt, brown fitted leggings, and well made brown boots. "Since when do you associate with an easy mark?"

"I may surprise you," Conrart retorted mildly, as he settled himself down onto a stool. He moved easily, as if the sword at his hip were a part of him.

Deek snorted. "I'm surprised you weren't robbed blind on your way here, little lordling," He replied derisively.

Skif watched quietly as the young noble born half-Dæmon narrowed his eyes briefly, his characteristic impassive mask falling quickly back into place. "I may be high born, but I have never suffered from the misconception of noble invulnerability."

Deek raised an eyebrow at Conrart's retort, then he laughed. "I think I'm going to like you, puppy."

Conrart snorted, but gave no further reply. By this time, the bar maid had noticed their added guest and made her way over, setting an empty mug down in front of him.

"Thank you," Conrart told her retreating back, before turning his head and addressing Deek. "May I?" he asked, calmly gesturing towards the pitcher.

Deek raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but be careful; Cyszer's not a drink for the lightweight."

Conrart's impassive mask remind firmly in place as he poured himself a mug full of the murky brownish amber liquor. "Thankfully, I'm no light weight." He replied calmly, taking a sip of the sweet concoction.

~~~***~~~

Skif sighed. Conrart was most assuredly …. Well, drunk wasn't the word—plastered fit better. Thankfully he was a quiet drunk, more inclined to curl up in a corner and pass out than to cause a ruckus. As such, the tavern master wasn't inclined to throw the boy out. Skif knew from his dealings with both Conrart and Yozak that this was likely the first time Conrart had ever been inebriated. He wondered idly if it was just the Cyszer's kick, or if the boy had actually had a reason for allowing himself to become too intoxicated to stand. Either way, the trainee was going to wish he hadn't come morning—Cyszer induced hangovers were far from pleasant.

"I told him Cyszer wasn't the drink for a lightweight," Deek muttered as Conrart groaned into his folded arms.

Skif glanced at him from across Conrart's back. "I feel compelled to remind you that you've barely touched your second mug, and that Conrart has actually finished a mug and a half."

Deek snorted. "At this rate, I can finish off a good three mugs tonight, and still be lively enough to make it back to where my men and I are staying."

Lyle chuckled. "And how much of a mess would you be leaving in your wake, for the Guards and 'eralds to be cleaning up come the morrow?"

Skif sighed and glanced over at Conrart. The boy was hunched over the table with his head buried in his arms, quite clearly too drunk to stand. What could have motivated him to get plastered on his birthing-day? And why had he come here alone? It was true Yozak had left on circuit just two weeks ago, and that I'Ryn and Tykir were off on Circuit as well, but Austin had yet to receive his Whites, and I'Ryk and Elizabeth were there as well. As two of Valdemar's leading authorities on Change-children, they were permanently assigned to Haven.

So why was the boy alone and not out celebrating with his friends? These were questions he'd had earlier and put out of his mind. Oh well, he could always question the royally drunk trainee on the ride home to the palace, because there was no way he was letting the boy go home this drunk on his own, Companion or no Companion.

He rose gracefully to his feet, and after setting a few silvers on the table top, grabbed Conrart's slim but well muscled shoulders. "Come on Trainee," he said simply, leveling the young man up and out of his chair. "Let's go take a nice ride," he added as he slung the boy's arm across his shoulders.

Conrart stiffened at the word 'ride' and he briefly wondered why. The younger man muttered something in his own language. His words were already nearly incomprehensible by the language alone, but were further garbled by a drunken slur.

Skif sighed. "Cymry," he called aloud, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't wearing his whites. "Will you and Vanyel have someone get you ready, please?"

_: It's done, Chosen. The stable boys are saddling Vanyel and me as we speak; we'll be ready and waiting for you as soon as you get to the Stables. : _Cymry's reply was prompt.

"Come on Trainee," he said quietly, as he half carried Conrart across the tavern common room and out to the Stables. "Let's get you home."

Deek came up on Conrart's other side and grabbed one of the younger man's arms, pulling it up and across his shoulders. "Here, let me help, and don't talk to yourself like that. People are going to think you've lost your marbles."

Skif ignored him; he wasn't a Herald, he wouldn't understand. "Lyle," he asked instead "can you get the door?"

Lyle stepped forward, opened the door to the stables, and froze at the sight of the two fully tacked Companions waiting calmly in front of the door.

Skif slipped easily around the former thief turned farmer and into the Stable, still supporting Conrart. Vanyel settled himself down into the straw, making it easier to get his Chosen into the saddle. Skif steadied the younger man carefully as Vanyel rose gracefully to his feet. "Will you be able to balance him or should I bind his wrists to the saddle?" he asked the stallion, as he looped the reins over the saddle horn.

_: He's never been drunk before, but I can balance a toddler on my back if I have to… he'll be fine. Thank you, Herald Skif. : _Vanyel replied, his voice a vaguely amused broad send.

Skif blinked, startled by a voice other then Cymry's speaking into his mind. "You're quite welcome, Companion Vanyel," he replied calmly.

"Herald?!" Deek and Lyle yelped in perfect harmony.

Skif turned his head and offered the pair of them a mischievous smile. "Deek, Lyle, allow me to introduce you to the lovely lady in whose company I spend an inordinate amount of time, the Companion Cymry."

Deek blinked up at him. "You became a Herald?!" he gasped. "But- but you're a thief! Thieves don't get Chosen—only the bloody pure are worthy of a Companion!"

Skif offered his friends a small smile. "Companions Choose where there is need," he replied simply, swinging up into his saddle with an easy grace. "It was nice seeing the two of you again. Now I really must be getting the trainee back to the Collegium before the dean decides to kill me."

Cymry and Vanyel turned and exited the stable in a maneuver an actual horse would never have been able to accomplish. For a while, Skif sat quietly in his saddle. Conrart didn't seem like a talkative drunk, but he knew it would be easier to get information out of the normally reclusive Heraldic Trainee when he was intoxicated. He was actually quite worried about the boy's tendency to hide himself away on his birthing day, rather than celebrating it with friends.

Last year on Beltane, the boy had holed himself up in his room with only Yozak for company—he hadn't even eaten in the common room. At the time, they'd all written it off as simply being that the two hadn't really known anyone or the customs of Valdemar. However, the two had celebrated Yozak's birthing day with all their friends nearly a year later, as opposed to simply sharing silent company.

"Do you miss your family?" he asked tentatively.

Conrart blinked at him for a moment before responding. "Sometimes," he replied mildly.

"What about today? It is your birthing-day and you always seem to hide yourself away, rather than celebrating." Skif gently pressed the issue.

"Why celebrate something that isn't really worth celebrating?" Conrart asked quietly, slumping even further into his saddle.

Skif raised one bushy eyebrow. "I don't get it; don't you nobles celebrate every family member's birthing-day with grand parties?"

Conrart looked at him for a moment. "My birthday is the first of May, Beltane day." He shook his head lightly, and Vanyel had to shimmy sideways a bit to keep the boy in his saddle. "On Beltane Eve, my family would gather for the festivities. Come morning my family would rest, and then an hour before sunset my uncle would take me out for a 'ride', supposedly for some male bonding. Then when we got home from what was always the most excruciating hour and a half of the entire year, Mother had rounded up every bloody noble to celebrate the birth of her nationally despised, worthless half-human son. As the guest of honor, I was expected to stay through the entire damned event, and dance with every eligible lady and lord, in addition to anyone else who asked for my Shinou-be-damned hand. All the while listening to them verbally bash the worthless half-breed disgrace of the Von Spitzweig family! So forgive me if I've never seen any reason to celebrate the _blessed_ event."

Skif flinched. Well, he had asked. "That bad, huh?" he inquired.

"You have no idea," Conrart drawled.

"You have worth here; your blood has nothing do with anything, and the Heralds could care less if you were born of two separate species," Skif told him gently, as he hauled Conrart down out of his saddle, and helped the boy back to his room, leaving their Companions in the expert care of the palace stable hands.

He continued to ask the boy pointed questions as he got him tucked securely into bed. It was devious and he knew it, but this was probably the only way they would ever get any information out of Conrart. What he found both worried and pleased him. Conrart had plenty of reasons to be mistrustful, yet he wasn't. He was quiet and reclusive, but he was also proud and strong.


	26. of hangovers and heraldic duties

Chapter 26: Of Hangovers and Heraldic Duties

Yozak yawned and stretched out his back; they had reached the first way-station of their circuit last night and had spent it in the company of the Herald coming off duty. He dug into his packs after removing the formal reins of his beloved Jissa's bridle. The tiny bells strung from her reins chimed musically in his hands as he set about tacking her up. After being on the road for two weeks, he already missed Conrart.

In a way it was odd—he'd spent every moment that their hectic schedules permitted with Conrart for as long as he could remember. But in these last two years, their lives had gone from the hectic work load of the captain of a very 'hands-on' king's guard and undercover operative to the relatively sedate and sedimentary lifestyle of two school boys. Yesterday was also Beltane, Conrart's birthday, the one day out of the year that Conrart hated with a passion. He finished up his morning chores quickly, his thoughts on his friend. The sun was up, which meant so was Conrart; eighty five years of military tendencies don't just go away over the span of two years.

This was probably a good thing considering the fact that the hours kept by the Heralds in general were positively unholy!

Yozak looked up at the sky; dawn had come and gone less than an hour ago. He was still worried about Conrart—his friend had been alone on the one day he hated most, and he wondered how Conrart had handled it. He paused briefly, glancing around to see if there was anything else he could help with. His Councilor was a nice man who'd assigned himself the bulk of the camp work despite Yozak's assurances that he knew how to handle a camp site and handle it quickly.

Then he spotted something his mentor hadn't started yet, and got to it. Covering the ashes in the fire pit wasn't hard, not with years of military training, and thirty years experience as an independent undercover operative to back the Heraldic training he'd been given. So he let his mind wander.

Predictably it wandered to Conrart.

His friend was just inside of his Mindspeech range, and this would be the last chance to speak with the younger man for at least another year. With that in mind, he reached for his friend.

He got the mental equivalent of a pained groan in reply.

It took him a moment to place the strange feelings reverberating down the link between them. When he did however, he laughed aloud.

_: Enjoying your first hangover? : _He inquired cheekily.

Conrart's reply was more than half a moan and almost completely inarticulate. Yozak couldn't help spending a good few minutes teasing his friend, describing what this morning's trout breakfast had looked like in great detail. Then he stopped when it became clear that Conrart was going to vomit if he didn't.

A drunk Conrart—now there was something not many ever saw, and sadly, he wasn't one of the ones who had. The younger man was no lightweight, the military had seen to that at least, but neither was he a heavy drinker. Conrart usually only had a beer or two at most, or a glass of the strong stuff. In the 125 years they'd known each other, Conrart had never gotten drunk enough to have a hangover in the morning, let alone one that made Yozak feel as if he were the one who'd been drinking.

After finding out that the man he was dating was planning on getting him drunk and into a 'compromising' position, Conrart had refrained from even getting tipsy. That was when he was 84. The man was a soldier, as such he drank, but he knew his limits and never pushed them. So what in the heck had possessed the man to get … well… plastered for lack of a better term?

He sighed and gave his hung-over friend a purely mental poke to get his attention. _: In the top drawer of my bedside table there's a row of about 60 blue vials. Drink one.: _

He finished up the last of the campsite chores with ease before swinging up into his saddle and waiting for his mentor to finish tacking up his own Companion. It was a good thing he was currently in his saddle because he had the dubious pleasure of watching through Conrart's eyes as the younger man made the trek from the dorms up to his rooms in the Herald's wing. It took his friend a moment to figure out the relatively simple door handle. But he soon slipped into the room, and made his way over to the nightstand. After some rummaging, the younger man found the previously mentioned vials and drank one. Yozak watched quietly as the haze in Conrart's vision began to clear.

_: Alright,: _Conrart said simply after a minute_ : What did I just drink? :_

Yozak laughed aloud at that. _: It's a Hangover remedy. : _He replied simply.

Conrart sent him a purely mental snort. _: I've seen Gwendal, Günter, Wolfram and half our platoon drunk and hung-over, and before I came back from earth, I'd seen you drunk a time or two. All I know about hangover cures is that they don't work this fast, taste horrible, and either feel like you're swallowing a mouthful of tar or sand. So I ask again, what did I just drink? : _

_: Alright,: _Yozak said after a moment. _: But first answer me this, what did it taste like to you? : _

Conrart sighed _: Dark chocolate truffles. Why do you ask? :_

Yozak blinked and filed that little bit of information away for further analysis. To him, it had always tasted like his favorite sensual food. Then again he had no idea what a 'dark chocolate truffle' was. Didn't sound like any mushroom he knew!

_: Well to me, it tastes like ripe strawberries dipped in thick fresh cream. I was just wondering what it tasted like to you, and to answer your earlier question, it's a mixture of freely given Dragon's blood and Phoenix tears. : _

_: I beg your pardon?! : _Conrart mentally yelped_. _

Yozak snorted. _: You wanted to know. :_

Conrart sputtered for a moment before he finally managed to say _: Dragons are a protected species, and how did you even get Phoenix tears? They're extinct thanks to the bloody humans. :_

Yozak blinked at his friend's mental shriek. _: What? I said it was freely given; it wouldn't have worked otherwise. As for the Phoenixes, there's a whole colony of them living in old abandoned Dragon's nests deep within the heart of the preserve. :_

_: When did they get there? :_

Yozak sighed. _: I don't know, but I'll talk to you later because I have to go be a Herald now. By the way, congratulations on the pile of Whites you were too hung-over to notice on your desk. :_

He smiled at the startled noise that reverberated down their mental link as he and Koren rode up to the first village of their circuit. For the first time in two years, they were out of easy mind speaking distance. From now on, he would have to actively concentrate on Conrart to bespeak him, and while Conrart's range was actually longer than his, he was the one actually on circuit, and had to keep his head in the game. They were both keenly aware of the fact that one wrong move on his part could get him killed, and as soon as Conrart was on his own internship ride, the same thing would apply.

He sighed, and sat up taller in his saddle, carrying himself with all the authority of his new office. Runefork was a relatively large village off of the Orhon River. They were still fairly close to Haven, so the villagers saw Heralds often; as such this should be an easy village to deal with. For now, Koren would be handling the bulk of the Heraldic stuff, while Yozak observed and accomplished a few things under the man's careful supervision.

They rode into the center of the village, where their arrival was heralded by the squealing of excited children. The villagers have already begun to gather, eager to have the Heralds handle whatever situations they couldn't settle in the local courts. The emotions in the air were a seething mass of excitement, expectancy, and something the redhead couldn't quite identify. Yozak dismounted and followed Koren over to a small table that had been set out for their use. He sat down ready to watch, listen, and learn.

Several hours had now passed, and the sun would soon begin to set. They would ride out to the next way-station and rest for the night, then come back in the morning and handle the rest of the cases. He rose to his feet and stretched. The sight of his beloved Jissa surrounded by a horde of worshiping children made him laugh aloud.

He started walking towards her, remembering the time so long ago when Lord Dan Hiri Weller had first started teaching him how to ride. Yozak couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips. He had been born outside of Shin Makoku; because of this, he didn't learn to ride until after he'd been rescued. He remembered sitting on the back of Conrart's pony as the man led the small beast in neat circles and the feelings of joy and excitement when he finally held those reins for the first time.

He was just about to ask Jissa if she was willing to extract herself from her group of admirers, when he felt it. A wave of sadness and terrible worry washed over him from separate directions. He closed his eyes briefly and slowly but carefully, he lowered his shields.

Instantly, he knew the two were related.

He sighed—sadness first; he'd handle the worry later.

With his eyes still closed, he tried to locate the source of the sorrow. It was hard, and it took a lot longer to localize then he was used to, but then he'd never used his empathy to locate anyone except Conrart before. After a moment he managed to pinpoint the source, and when he opened his eyes he let his empathy guide his steps. Soon he found himself standing just outside of the small village graveyard.

He swallowed; he hated graveyards.

They reminded him of the relatively short time he'd spent in a Dai Shimaron work camp, where they buried their newly dead every day, and the death toll was so numerous the graves markers stretched as far as the eye could see.

He buried his own mother there, away from the mass graves and the yard in general, on top of the hill she used to take him to every evening as the sun set, despite how tired they both were, to tell him stories of his father.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to bury his past long enough for him to do his job—he wasn't phobic; he just didn't like the painful memories that graveyards brought with them. Suddenly Jissa was there, standing at his side, offering him silent love and comfort. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and laid one hand against her withers, before proceeding into the forest of grave markers.

What he found startled him.

A little boy, his deep black hair a tangle of leaves and twigs, lay half sprawled on the turned earth of two relatively new graves. He guessed that they had been buried less than a week ago. The dirt was freshly turned in narrow little groves, and the boy's filthy hands bore further testament to the frantic digging the little one had been doing.

He knelt and scooped the child into his arms, whispering words of comfort in that quiet tone Conrart always used with small children. He was well aware of the fact that the boy couldn't understand a word he was saying since he was speaking in his native tongue, but he knew that at times like this, small children responded better to the tone of your voice, not the words. He reached out with his gift to soothe the small boy as best he could. He remembered this pain, the pain of losing a loved one. But how did one explain death to a four year old?

"Mama . . . papa . . ." The boy whispered, small hands fisting in Yozak's tunic. The man ignored the fact that this kid was getting dirt on his whites, and as he cradled the small, wet, and muddy child in his arms, he left the graveyard with Jissa trailing at his heels. He waited only until they were far enough from the cemetery for the buildup of strong emotions not to interfere with his empathy before he lowered his shields again and searched for the source of the worry that was also laced through with sorrow. He found it easily, on the other side of the village, and the emotions in that area were now heating up. Individual strands of anger, annoyance, worry, disregard and even shame were gathering around, distinguishable to him only by the individual colors of the emotional strands.

He groaned; it would appear that there were more people embroiled in this emotional mess than one little boy who was still too young to understand the implications of death, only that his mother and father were gone and wouldn't ever be coming back. Still cradling the kid gently in his arms, he swung up into his saddle with the practiced ease and grace of a Herald. Jissa waited just long enough for him to find his balance and adjust the kid in his arms before she shot off like an arrow.

They moved through the village at a relatively fast trot, heading for the source of the emotional upheaval. Along the way, he reached out for Koren with his Mindspeech. He remained in contact with his mentor only long enough to see to it that the man had the same information that he had. Jissa made her way calmly through the still relatively crowded streets; Yozak shifted his position minutely, compensating for her every move. The small child in his arms shivered slightly, and he wrapped his cloak more securely around the boy to keep him from catching a chill in the evening air.

The scene they came upon next was one that would stay with him for a while. This was not the type of argument he ever wanted to walk in on again. Families were not meant to have these kinds of fights! Six men, three women and a boy were standing in the middle of the street, arguing heatedly with each other. The subject of their argument was the little boy in his arms. They were arguing over who was going to take him now that his parents had passed away.

Apparently it wasn't a duty any of them really wanted. Since the father had been fairly wealthy, they all wanted the land that belonged to the youngest sibling, but not one of them wanted the responsibility that came with it. In fact, the only one who seemed to care about the small child currently asleep in his arms was the older boy in the crowd.

Jonathan; this young man's name was Jonathan. He was the only one who seemed relieved that someone had actually found little 'Ree', or rather Dorian. Unlike their elder siblings, Jonathan actually cared about and wanted to raise his younger brother. The problem was he had yet to come of age, and thus was still considered a child himself under the law.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he gazed into the fire in front of him. It had been a long day, and Koren had left that last judgment up to him and him alone. There was a relatively simple solution, but it seemed as if no matter how simple and logical it was, he had to argue it again and again with those arrogant little villagers. At least little Ree had a guardian who would care for him and love him as he deserved, in the form of the youngest of his elder siblings.

He blinked, resisting the urge to go cross-eyed, as a mug came into his line of sight from somewhere above his head. "It's cider . . . with a little something extra. You looked like you could use a bit of a pick me up," Koren said simply with a kind voice.

Without a word, Yozak reached out and took the small mug, taking a swig with his eyes closed. He could taste the subtle difference that was the apple brandy, lurking mostly undetected in the otherwise innocent apple cider. It wasn't nearly strong enough to get him even lightly buzzed; years as an undercover operative had given him an amazing alcohol tolerance, and the ability to detect exactly what kind of alcohol he was ingesting.

In a way it was funny; the only person who'd ever really seen him drunk was Conrart. Plenty of people have seen him _act _drunk,but it was rare for him to leave himself open in such a manner. He nodded and gave a muttered word of thanks. With his gaze never once leaving the fire, he took another swig of the doctored cider. He never really understood what Conrart's younger brother Wolfram, found so hypnotic about fire. Wolfram had always reminded him of a small child clutching a security blanket whenever he caught the boy gazing into a fire. But as he watched the Vrondi dancing just above the flames, he felt himself begin to understand Wolfram just a little bit better. Idly he wondered if Gwendal's compulsive knitting had originally come about as a way to trade one security blanket for another; after all he often saw Conrart gazing into the rushing waters of the river when he was disturbed.

They were Mazoku, and their ties to the elements were irrevocable.

Koren settled himself back down on the other side of their small fire, and Yozak knew he was watching him. He survived the life of a spy too long not to know when he was being watched, even subtlety. He refused to acknowledge the man's gaze; he knew better than to give away more than he had to. If the man wanted answers, he'd have to open his mouth and ask a question. Koren wasn't someone like Conrart to simply be given information freely, to do with what he will.

"You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" Koren said after a moment.

Yozak glanced up arching one reddish eyebrow. "Now whatever gave you such a notion?"

"Because I've never been able to get the time of day out of you without asking," Koren replied mildly.

"Shame on you," Yozak rebuked lightly, "not being able to tell time at your age. And here you have those poor villagers believing you're a trained Herald."

Koren gapped at him for a moment, and then shut his mouth with an audible snap. "Very well youngling, we'll play word games."

_: Oh goodie, just what I wanted to do with my evening… play word games with an infant. : _Yozak told Jissa mildly.

_: Chosen, you're behaving like an errant child. : _Jissa scolded mildly.

Yozak sighed, _: I'd say he started it but I don't think that argument is going to go any further with you then it would with Conrart, so I guess I'll act my age. :_

"Alas, Jissa reminds me that I'm actually older than you and thus should act my age." Yozak bluntly told his mentor.

Koren gaped at him again. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like—Jissa instructed me to act my age," Yozak retorted, shrugging his white clad shoulders nonchalantly.

Koren grumbled something about internees with a neurotic sense of humor, and for the gods to give him strength before he pressed on. "So exactly how old are you?"

Yozak sighed. He didn't want to get into this, but he was the one who brought it up – however unintentionally. "I'll be 146 come February, which is about the equivalent of a little over 21. So there you have it—I'm both your senior and your junior. Pain in the ass, isn't it? Anyway, moving on; what were you originally planning to ask me?"

The look on Koren's face was absolutely priceless. The man simply stared at him for a moment before his eyes lost all focus and Yozak knew he spoke with his own Amanda. Yozak reached up and stroked Jissa's muzzle as the mare wandered over and settled herself down behind him. With a sigh, he leaned back and used the mare as a handy backrest, closing his eyes as he waited for his councilor to get control of his vocal cords again.

After a moment, Koren seemed to have succeeded. "I see." He said at last. "So would you mind enlightening me about your decision this afternoon?"

"What do you need clarified?" Yozak asked with a small sigh.

Koren groaned and muttered something about pulling teeth before pressing on. "You basically emancipated the elder boy and left a 4 year old in his care. I was wondering why and if you really thought that wise."

Yozak sighed again. "I thought that might be it," He replied, and gazed into the fire in silence for a moment longer, taking strength from the feel of Jissa at his back, and the distant hum of Conrart just beyond his speaking range.

"seven years ago our Maoh adopted a daughter. He was far too young to have a child, not even of age himself, but he wanted to give Greta a good home with someone who cared for her. For a Mazoku, 15 really is quite young, and many of us thought it was going to turn into nothing more than a case of one child trying to raise another, particularly when you take into account the fact that Greta's a human. As such she ages faster than Yuri -may Shinou grant him a long reign- ever could. That never mattered to the kiddo though. And I know what it feels like to be unwanted after you've lost your family."

"My village was great, but they could never replace what I'd lost. I chose to tempt fate by following Conrart and his father as a little boy. Then I made my own destiny, for better or worse, and I was able to do it because no matter how tough things got, I had my own little place in the world. Conrart became my family that day, and I have never regretted that choice. We wanted each other, even when it was just us against the world; I knew Conrart would always want me, would always care. That became my strength. I simply made sure that little Ree had the same chance that I had.

Jonathan is only a few months from being an adult anyway. Had their parents died a year from now, Ree would have gone to him without question, because he wanted him. It's better for him that way and we both know it. This way it works out the same—both boys keep their portion of their parents land and inheritance, in addition to the main house. It gives them a means to make a living and their independence. Besides, if Yuri's taught me anything, it's to follow what you think is right, and that a willing guardian, no matter how young and inexperienced, is better than an unwilling one." He paused, amazed that he had given so much away; it was a sign of just how much the Heralds and Jissa had changed him.

"Does that make sense?" he asked at last.

Koren simply nodded his understanding.

~~~***~~~

A.N

Sorry this is late things have been hectic. Also my 7 month imprisonment in everyday suburbia has just turned into a year. So things may get a bit worse before they get better. Read and review please. It keeps the werecreatures happy. And it gives our muses a kick in the pants. Or give them a cup of coffee if you wish. But please review. also there is only one more chapter written and edited, from now on you are at the mercy of my beta. The grammar Nazi.


	27. setting out

Chapter: 27

Yozak sighed as he sat down across the fire from Koren, having just come from checking on the mules. He could have checked on them using the simple extension of his gift to ask the beasts if they were alright or needed anything, but this had given him an excuse to get up and collect himself. Koren had just asked him about his family and his childhood, so he wasn't sure what to say.

The man had asked him about his former life on several occasions before this one, and he always answered his questions without hesitation. Tonight however was different—it appeared that Koren had finally realized just what he found so weird about his answers.

The man had wanted to know about his family, and why Conrart and Conrart's family kept popping up in almost all of his childhood stories. Yozak had excused himself to check on the mules, and to gather his thoughts. Now all too soon he found himself facing Koren; he'd never hidden the fact that he was an orphan, or what his past was like before Conrart and his father had proceeded to change it. But he never exactly advertised it either, and other than Jissa, Conrart and likely Vanyel, the only person on this world who knew exactly what his life had been like before it was changed was Skif.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and was just about to start talking again, when he realized something –

Koren was staring at him.

"Um… what's with you?" he asked after a moment of scrutiny.

Koren jerked as if he'd been slapped before stammering out a reply. "Did I just see what I think I saw?"

"Would you care to elaborate on that?" Yozak asked mildly, raising one eyebrow.

"Eyes" was all Koren said.

For a moment Yozak was completely confused, then understanding dawned. "Oh, you just noticed?"

"Yes… why?" the other man managed.

"It's a common trait among the Mazoku, even half-breeds have it."

Koren nodded. "I see." He said simply.

"About your original question," Yozak said with a sigh.

"I was born in Big Shimaron, a country – in human territory - across the sea from Shin Makoku. However, I don't have many fond memories of that place. My father was a wanderer form Shin Makoku, and my mother was a common born farmer's daughter. My father had every intention of bringing his wife back to the Demon Kingdom, but when he found out she was pregnant – he chose to stay in Big Shimaron – just until the child was born and old enough to travel. However, winters in big Shimaron are harsh, and he wasn't prepared for it. He took ill and died before I was even born.

When I was born, my hair and my eyes proclaimed my lineage – and my uncle, who'd taken in my mother after my father died, threw us out onto the streets.

My mother moved us both back to the little seaside village where she'd lived when she met my father. We lived there for a time, and my mother tried desperately to keep us both alive. But soon, I began to age differently, and nothing she could do would hide that – not when I was 12 years old and looked and acted like I was 6. Eventually, we couldn't hide from the authorities any longer. When they came, it was for me and me alone. They gave my mother the opportunity to renounce me, to claim I'd been sired against her will. She refused, so they sent us both to _that village_!" he suddenly fumed. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, sighing as Jissa sent him a wave of comfort and love.

"The Village was so far north that the very land itself had frozen until it was nothing but a barren wasteland – not even grass would grow there. We tried desperately to survive in the harsh conditions, but they sent us no food. It was their hope that everyone who bore the blood of the Mazoku or had contact with them would die. Well, they got their wish. My mother died there shortly after we arrived – I was only 19. I met Conrart shortly thereafter; his father led us all home to Shin Makoku. Nearly 13 decades later, we're still nearly inseparable."

"13 decades," Koren mused. "That's quite a friendship."

~~~***~~~

Conrart sighed as he packed up his supplies; it wasn't hard. There were only his spare whites, the basic necessities (rope, knife, medical supplies, and some lightweight dried foodstuff, which both he and Vanyel could eat) and a few bars of almond or apple scented soaps, and some cloth. 85 years in the military had taught him to pack light and only the essentials. 2 wars and 5 years of following Yuri around had made it second nature, and a year being trained as one of the Queen's special messengers had simply driven the lesson home further and allowed him to pack for speed in his sleep, or drugged up to his eyebrows. The fact that Vanyel was in the back of his head, checking and rechecking everything he did, only made him absolutely certain that he'd gotten everything packed right. In the end, all he had were two saddlebags of supplies, his bedroll, a map, a lightweight message container and his weapons, all laid out on his bed and ready for inspection, as soon as the dean and his mentor decided to show up.

With a sigh, he settled himself down gracefully onto the edge of his nightstand, picked up a wet stone, and began to carefully sharpen the extra arrowheads stashed in a special pocket of his quiver. Then he checked and rechecked each of his arrows, making sure his pattern was properly notched into the fletching of each before moving on. Lastly he double checked the colored bands hidden away in the quiver pocket, making sure he had a few of each color—white (all's well), green (healer), purple (priest), gray (herald), brown (message), blue (treachery), yellow (military) red (danger), and black (for death or catastrophe). All Heralds were taught the Arrow Code, but it was particularly important for the Special Messengers, who dealt with more danger than most Heralds, and did the bulk of the diplomatic work.

He shifted quietly before reverently gathering up his sword and proceeding to meticulously clean and sharpen the familiar weapon, with its now leather-bound hilt. Two and a half years had passed since he'd last had to use it, and the weapon had never fallen out of repair—he was too much the soldier for that to ever happen, and his father had drilled the importance of keeping his weapons sharp and ready at a moment's notice too far into his head for him to easily forget it.

It was strange to think that half a year had passed since he'd been given his Whites, and he still had yet to start his own Internship. That was mostly due to the fact that Vanyel had only just finished growing; they had spent some time getting use to his new tack, and to the changes that the last growth spurt had made to the stallion's gait and stride. He had also moved out of the boy's dorms and into his own rooms in the Heraldic wing, only a few doors down from Yozak in fact and closer to the two huge double doors. Unlike Yozak, he had a small office attached to his rooms since he was expected to teach when not doing something else for queen and country.

That was fine with him. He actually liked children.

Yozak would be home in just under 10 months, and he himself would be home about eight months after that. It was strange to think that by the time they met again it would have been two years since the last time they'd seen each other. He missed him . . . he missed him a lot.

"Enter," he called out as a knock sounded on his door.

~~~***~~~

Holly groaned as she followed Dean Teren up to the young Herald internee's rooms. She simply could not believe this was happening! She and Rohanan were widely considered to be the best team out there as far as the Queen's Special Messengers went. They had been since they came back from their own internship ride years ago. In the nearly 8 years that had passed, they'd ridden on many missions; some diplomatic, dangerous, or both.

But they'd never been assigned an internee before.

Rohanan had informed her that an internee would only slow them down, which in turn would force them to teach rather than react, and that was dangerous. The crown recognized it as a useless risk of one of their best resources. As such, they'd grown accustomed to working alone.

Now everything had changed.

They'd been assigned an internee.

She protested to the dean, reminding him that they'd never had an internee. To her utter horror, Herald-Dean Teren simply informed her that she was overdue. They were sending her to the Tayledras Clans and on to White Griffon with a trainee in tow.

This couldn't end well!

For one thing, all Heralds dispatched to the clans had to be Wingsibs – adopted as a part of the clan yet still oddly separated from it. It was one of the reasons why there were so few of them. The Hawkbrothers were still very reclusive and at times downright xenophobic, despite the fact that they had been allied for more than 10 years. Of the 10 Heralds who were wingsib, most of them spent times among the clans when they were on leave from Haven, bringing their children (the few that had them) with them so that the clan could recognize them as one of their own, in the hopes that if one of their children were ever chosen, the Crown would have Heralds ready to serve in the compactly of Tayledras envoy. The problem was that those ten Heralds were wingsib to K'Valdemar vale. This wasn't surprising since it was the easiest place to send a Herald in order to ensure that they were properly made wingsib and given the Tayledras language.

Holly had objected to having the boy as an internee for one very important, rather logical reason, in addition to her own pride. They were sending her from Haven in a few scant hours with this _child_ directly into the heart of Hawkbrother territory. Her presence was required in K'Treva with all haste to deal with something that required a Herald's hands to deliver immediately into the hands of the Queen.

Understandably, she and Rohanan were being sent, but she didn't understand this decision concerning the internee. All Teren had said was that the boy's particular and somewhat interesting combinations of gifts would make him a vital asset if things went sour. And what in the hell did Teren mean when he told her not to worry about the fact that the boy had yet to be made into a Tayledras Wingsibling? "The Clan Elders will welcome him as one of their own. His Companion will see to that," He had said. What the hell did that mean? Who the hell was his Companion that the Tayledras would welcome him with open arms simply on sight?

It was true that the Tayledras recognized Companions as something other than horses and respected them in their own right. But this was asking a bit too much.

At length they came to the boy's quarters, and she did her best to put her bad mood behind her. If nothing else the boy was a fellow Herald, and even if they didn't get along, they could tolerate each other for the duration of the mission. It was only for 18 months.

"Enter," the boy called when Teren knocked.

She entered the room at Teren's heels and got her first look at the boy. He was tall, with a lithe build and from what she could see he was quite eloquently muscled. He was still young though; she pegged him as being no older than 20 and likely closer to 19. He had high, almost delicately sculpted cheek bones set into a face that was only just too long to be considered heart shaped. His chin was smooth, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw. Large almond shaped, brown eyes adorned by long lashes harmonized perfectly with his delicately sculpted softly arched eyebrows, and a slim nose. His face was framed by the long strands of his gently wavy mahogany locks, which looked like it was trying desperately to escape the confines of the ponytail it had been pulled back into.

There was only one way to describe him, with the simple phrase of 'highborn pretty boy'! She suppressed the urge to groan; at least he'd fit in with the usually flamboyant Tayledras people. She had a feeling the boy would be leaving a trail of feathers and flowers in his wake.*

He bore a completely impassive expression, and she could honestly say that were it not for his stark white uniform, she never would have pegged him for a Herald. That was the interesting thing about Heralds; they came from all walks of life.

His unsheathed sword rested across his lap. He was apparently in the process of sharpening it with a deftly practiced hand. He glanced up at them and inclined his head politely, before sliding the sword back into its sheath. She got the impression that while the sheath was new, the sword itself wasn't. There was simply too much familiarity in the way his hand cradled the leather wrapped hilt. He looked almost too fragile to handle a blade, and she found herself wondering who he would be if he hadn't been Chosen. Would he have been one of those nobles who whiled away their time hunting and fishing, or would he become one of those completely useless social butterfly types that simply lazed about the court? Would he be someone who joined the guard simply for something to do?

Somehow she didn't think so—he was simply too damned frail looking.

Rohanan had picked her up in the slums of Oris to the east of Hardorn almost 16 years ago, she was all of 13 at the time. She could hardly remember what it felt like to not have the stallion in the back of her mind.

_: Don't judge him on appearance alone Chosen, there has to be more to him than meets the eye or he wouldn't be Chosen in the first place. :_ Rohanan advised her calmly, before adding _: After all, Herald Mage Vanyel himself was reported to have been a beauty. Or have you forgotten? I believe you were much amused by that one description you read of him during your trainee days. The one that described him as the alabaster carved masterpiece of a master sculptor. :_

Holly suppressed the urge to snicker at that_: Yeah, but he's no Vanyel. : _ She reminded her Companion mildly, ignoring the slight shift in his mindvoice that told her there was something he wasn't telling her.

She sighed—she supposed she should just play nice. It wasn't the boy's fault that he'd been assigned to her as an intern. She reminded herself that it was only going to be for 18 months, and it wasn't like they were going to be alone together… ever, since they both had their Companions.

_: His name is Conrart, Chosen, and while you've been having an internal monologue, I believe he's been sizing you up based on something a bit more concrete than your pretty looks. : _Rohanan informed her mildly.

She sputtered mentally, both startled and outraged, and watched quietly as Teren left them to 'become better acquainted.'

_: Van, says to tell you not to underestimate Conrart. Apparently, the boy is older than he looks, and it seems he earned every one of the calluses on his hands long before he was even Chosen. : _Rohanan paused, seeming briefly distracted, and she knew that he was conversing with the boy's Companion.

Holly sighed and nodding to Conrart, before going through his packs to make sure he had everything he needed and nothing he did not. She was rather surprised that he bore her inspection with neither comment nor complaint. Idly she wondered what _Van _was short for, as it was very rare for a Companion to have a name that was only one syllable. It wasn't that it couldn't happen; it just wasn't likely.

For that matter, was this _Van _a mare or a stallion? She could think of several names Van could have been shorthand for, and one of them was Vanya. She put the matter out of her mind. She'd know one way or another in only a few hours. They would be riding circuit together shortly, and in that time she would likely learn the Companion's full name.

She was actually quite surprised by how little was in his packs. He had just the essentials, and if she hadn't known any better she would have thought he'd been doing this for years. After a moment's consideration of his gear, she realized there was nothing she would have added or taken out. As such, she pronounced his packing job 'adequate', and told the man to meet her outside of Companion's stable in a candle-mark.

~~~***~~~

Conrart watched the retreating form of his mentor for a moment, and then shook his head.

_: Well this is going to be interesting. : _He told Vanyel mildly.

Vanyel snorted. _: Lighten up, : _the stallion retorted gently._ : You may end up enjoying it. :_

Conrart shrugged, and rose from where he'd been sitting; it only took him a moment to attach his sword to his belt. He then proceeded to pack the one thing that he'd refused to pack before he actually had to, just in case his mentor decided to do exactly what the woman had.

It reminded him of the day one of his instructors from the Shin Makoku Military Academy had come to escort him to the school. He remembered how the man had gone through his packs and forced him to leave his flute behind. Yozak had returned the much loved instrument to him the first time he'd snuck off the school grounds to meet his friend in the city. He didn't want to risk his mentor forcing him to leave the instrument behind. With a sigh, he looked around the room that had been his for the past six months, gathered up his packs, and left the room. He closed the door softly behind him; he'd said his farewells last night. All that was left to do now was to actually ride out.

Somehow he found himself a little alarmed at the prospect; the Collegium had been his home for the last two and a half years. He strangely felt reluctant to leave the security of its walls. He was a Herald, and he would do his duty, but still it seemed as though his life had only begun the day Vanyel had Chosen him. That event was definitely life changing, and he was fairly certain that the Conrad Weller Vanyel had Chosen no longer existed. He was Herald Conrart, and he couldn't –quite – remember how he'd ever functioned, how he had lived 135 years of his life without the stallion.

The idea of life without Vanyel was just as foreign to him as the concept of life without Yozak. Losing his left arm wasn't even as traumatic!

He didn't know how, but he found himself in Yozak's rooms. Sitting on his friend's bed, with his packs on the floor at his feet, he drunk in the sight of the things that were distinctly Yozak. He allowed himself a moment of reflection. He remembered the young boy that he'd met so long ago. He remembered the war and Yozak's determination to bring him home, despite the fact that he didn't think it mattered if he threw his life away, and didn't care one way or another if he lived or died.

Yozak had stayed with him through thick and thin for as long as he could remember.

He closed his eyes and flopped backwards onto his friend's bed. He'd done this so many times when Yozak was out on a mission for Gwendal. At least in Shin Makoku, the room had smelled of Yozak. But here, Yozak hadn't lived here long enough for it to have acquired his smell. There were times he would have thought his friend gone if not for the steady and familiar pulse of their bond in the back of his mind.

_: Chosen, it's time to be going. : _Vanyel announced.

With a sigh, he rose to his feet and turned to leave before coming to an abrupt halt. He dropped his packs unceremoniously onto the floor again and made his way calmly over to his friend's wardrobe. It took him a moment to find, but finally he found the many armbands that Yozak had acquired throughout the years. Without even pausing to think, he snagged one of the older, more frequently worn ones and closed the wardrobe door. He tucked the armband into one of his bags and redid the ties. Then he gathered up his things and left the room.

After thirty years of use, the armband would still carry Yozak's scent despite the fact that the last time he'd worn it was six months ago.

He paused just beyond the doors that led from the gardens into the Herald's Wing, wondering just when he'd started acting like a teenager in heat?

Briefly he considered ascending the stairs again to return his prize to its rightful place on its owner's shelf, but he was pressed for time. Holly would be less than pleased with him if he was late, and he didn't fancy telling her that he'd been late because he was simply returning something he'd stolen. Yozak had only been gone six months and the separation _HURT. _ Each day it was like someone was digging their fingers into a wound. And the further from Haven Yozak got –

The more it ached!

He didn't even want to think about how badly it was going to hurt with him in the Vales and Yozak on circuit. He'd bear it as best he could, but it was an agony that he couldn't understand, and honestly didn't want to endure.

Yozak would understand—he was sure of it.

With that in mind, he turned and continued walking towards the Stable and Vanyel. He arrived and managed to have Vanyel brushed to a glossy shine and his tail done into a nice plait before Herald-mage Holly had even arrived. He glanced up at her when she walked past him. He saddled Vanyel with the brisk efficiency gained from years in the military and set about attaching his bedroll and packs to the saddle skirting. Then he swung up into the saddle with the ease and grace of a born horseman, running his fingers through Vanyel's mane in an attempt to calm himself down.

He wondered what Yozak was up to. He hoped the man was safe. Granted, he knew Yozak could take care of himself and he trusted his friend to do so, but still he worried.

He told Yuri once that Demons could go years without seeing each other and be perfectly happy so long as they knew the other person was safe. That was true, but it had always been harder for him to handle Yozak's absence.

Vanyel sent him a wordless stream of comfort and love, gently reminding him that Jissa would keep Yozak safe.

After a few minutes, Holly had her Companion - _:Rohanan: _Vanyel supplied – saddled and they were off heading not out the palace gate as he had assumed, but out into Companion's Field. He sat quietly in Vanyel's saddle during the short ride, drinking in the sights, sounds and smells of a place that in less than three years had become more of a home to him than his own country had ever been.

The Heralds were an interesting group; here he had more family members than he could count. He always had family—a father who'd cared for him, a mother who'd loved him and done her level best to protect him from the world.

Then there was Gwendal his elder brother. He'd always looked up to Gwendal as a boy, but Gwendal had been so much older than him that it was often hard to find common interests, and in some cases even common ground. Wolfram was a horse of an entirely different color. He loved his baby brother, and they were close enough in age that they should have been friends and had a close relationship. Should, being the operative word in that sentence. Things had started out that way, but their relationship had taken a rather abrupt nosedive the day Wolfram learned he was only half demon. He didn't even want to think about Stoffel! The man had always made his opinion of his lowly half-breed nephew quite clear.

He shook his head in an effort to clear away the memories. As soon as they arrived, the Heralds had closed ranks around them, doing their best to make sure the two 'off world' members of the circle were included and in general just doing their best to make them feel safe and at home.

It had meant the world to both him and Yozak.

He shifted slightly in his saddle as they came up to the old bell tower, feeling Vanyel's discomfort and a vague sense of an old pain at the sight of the death-bell (which rang every time a Herald died) and the doorway into what had once been a little chapel. The chapel was long gone, but the doorway was still used for Gating.

"Van?" he asked quietly, gently caressing the crest of the stallion's neck in an attempt to soothe him.

_: I'm fine, Chosen, : _Vanyel reassured him calmly_. : It is only memories from the past. Sometimes I cannot bear to look at that tower, and others I can stand by it and almost forget the things I lost that night. :_

Conrart patted Vanyel's shoulder before leaning forward in his saddle and hugging Van's proudly arched neck, offering his Companion a wordless wave of love and affection, and what little comfort he could for a past he knew very little about. This particular story he knew however, after finding out that his Companion was famous – he'd done a little reading. He knew how Herald Vanyel's first lifebonded had committed suicide by throwing himself off that very bell tower after the death of his own Companion.

They watched quietly as Holly built up the gate that would take them to the last known location of K'Tava Vale.

~~~***~~~

A.N

* in the clans flowers and feathers are an invitation have sex. A primary feather from a bond bird is used to signify a lengthy relationship, that can be casually ended with the return of said feather.

A.N this is the last of the finished chapters the next few are currently being edited so hopefully the wait won't be too long. Read and review please.


	28. of Hawkbrothers and mutant plants

Chapter 28: of Hawkbrothers and mutant plants

Conrad gasped, gritting his teeth against the intense wave of purely mental pain that washed over him as Vanyel stepped through the Gate. He had never felt pain this bad since he had pretended to be Belar's man more than 7 years ago. The moment Shinou had asked him to play the part of traitor for the good of his people, he knew that his betrayal would cause a rift between him and the rest of the royal family. It had called his honor and loyalty into question – he knew and accepted the fact that he would never be able to go home. He never even expected Yuri to pardon his actions, or even expected his king to go through such efforts to bring him home. The entire experience had been an extended exercise in emotional pain – yet the worst part of the whole thing, the most agonizing event in a long list of painful events, was the look of complete and utter betrayal in Yozak's eyes at the Ultimate Fighter tournament!

The feeling of his friend frantically reaching for his mind while he deliberately blocked the other man out – that and that alone had almost broken him. Going through the Gate wasn't quite as bad because he didn't have the pain of his betrayal lancing down his bond with Yozak to deal with this time. However, it would appear that their bond had gotten tighter since then, especially because the purely physical distance between them was suddenly an agony all its own. He closed his eyes briefly, trying desperately to disentangle himself from the pain. For the first time in more than thirty years, he was trying to isolate the part of the bond that was him, not Yozak.

It took a few minutes, but finally the pain lessened to a dull throb at the back of his head. A few minutes more, and the throb was purely spiritual.

_: Are you better, Chosen?: _Vanyel asked quietly.

Conrart blinked and the world slid lazily back into focus. "I'm fine, thanks." He replied aloud. After a second's hesitation he switched to the more intimate caress of Mindspeech and added, _: I just didn't expect Gating to be that painful. According to everything I've been told and that I've read, it's not supposed to hurt. :_

Vanyel sighed. _: Gating itself shouldn't be painful, unless you have some reason to be sensitive to the gate's energy – which you don't. What you felt was the backlash of your . . . of your bond to your friend being pulled too thin. It will pass, Chosen. :_

Conrart inclined his head and silently thanked his Companion. With a small sigh, he looked around and found himself in the middle of an enormous forest. Flower bearing vines hung from the branches of enormous trees – they were so large that it would have taken more than 50 men standing with arms outstretched to encircle their mighty trunks. Each of the flowers was the size of his hand, and the smallest of the orange, red, and golden yellow leaves were about the size of a saddle.

He sat – quietly – atop Vanyel's back trapped somewhere between awe and terror. If this was the Forest, what were the animals like? Scratch that – he bloody well knew what the local wildlife was like. He'd heard quite a few of Darkwind's scouting tales; tales that told of deadly and intelligent predators like the Change-Lions and Wyrsa.

He shuddered at the thought of Wyrsa. 

The creatures were quite literally the stuff of nightmares – and not even growing up in a land that had declared Dragons an endangered species and passed laws to protect them could change that!

Wyrsa were a construct species, created by one of the Old Adepts during the Mage Wars in an attempt to mimic the Kyree. They looked like a sinister cross between a viper and a greyhound, and were venomous predators that fed on Mage energy. Wyrsa were pack oriented creatures that shared a collective intelligence – that made them all the more difficult to kill.

Abruptly, his instincts screamed a warning – they were no longer alone. He reached out with his gifts trying to pinpoint the watcher, and came up empty handed. According to his other senses, there was nothing there, no one watching them . . . his mundane senses on the other hand were screaming at him.

After 85 years in the military, he'd learned to trust those senses, no matter what his Heraldic Gifts were telling him. Just because you felt paranoid, it didn't mean that you were wrong. He shifted in his saddle and scanned the area around him, all of his senses alert; his hand dropped to his sword, slender fingers cradling the familiar hilt.

The slightest of movements caught his attention and he turned his head, scrutinizing the vegetation around them. "Chikushou-!" (Son of a -!) He muttered, as he realized they were surrounded, literally. Without pausing to think, he reached for his mentor's mind with his own. Swiftly he gave her the relative positions of their seven unannounced visitors, including the three personas hiding in the trees.

~~~***~~~

Holly blinked when she felt Conrart's mind brush her own. She traveled here often enough to know the drill. They'd gate and several Hawkbrother scouts would show up to ensure that they were indeed the visitors they had been expecting. Then, after it had been established that they were indeed the proper guests, they would be led through the forest to the Vale.

If she'd been alone there wouldn't be a problem, but since she had the boy with her… he became an extra variable. He'd have to be made a wingsib before he was allowed to set foot in the Vale.

According to Conrart they were surrounded, one scout in front of them, one behind, one on either side, and three in the trees above their heads. That sounded about right, given the xenophobic nature of the Hawkbrothers. She was impressed in spite of herself. The Tayledras people had long ago perfected the art of appearing to be part of the forest. In fact to mage sight, the Vales looked little more than a part of the land around it, and individuals looked like nothing more than young trees. To make matters worse, scouts wore clothing in shades of green, grey and brown that was specifically designed to blend into the surrounding forest. The effect was so greatly perfected that the scouts literally faded into the background whenever they stood still.

The fact that Conrart had spotted even one of them was a minor miracle. The boy had to be either extremely observant or he had abnormally keen eyesight - or both.

She noticed that he'd dropped Van's reins and that his sword-hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade. However, he didn't draw the weapon – at least the boy had self preservation instincts. What she didn't understand was why he'd flipped open the lid of his water-skin.

Without warning, the vegetation directly in front of them moved forward and after a minute resolved itself into a man – and one she recognized at that!

It had been three years since she'd last seen him, but it was definitely Riversong. Holly couldn't help but smile. "Hello, Riversong how have you been?" she asked quietly.

"I've been fine, thank you Holly." He replied, though he kept his eyes on Conrart, who Holly was glad to note had let go of his sword hilt.

She noticed how the boy closed the canteen as well, and now sat quietly atop Van's back doing a very good impression of a helpless young nobleman. She rolled her eyes; Conrart gave off the air of somebody who would be helpless if you separated him from his Companion and sword. Yet she knew he was far from helpless. No Herald could ever truly be helpless while unarmed, their teachers saw to that at least.

"Who is he?" Riversong asked.

She didn't need to ask for clarification. "He is Herald Conrart." She replied mildly, and then added "the circle saw fit to give me an intern. It's a bit unexpected but at any rate his training is my responsibility for the next 18 months." This wasn't her idea and she wanted to make sure Riversong knew it. It wasn't that she didn't like the young internee; on the contrary, his behavior a few minutes ago impressed her to no end. However, she had sworn that she would not lead strangers onto Tayledras lands.

"Is he wingsib to K'Valdemar vale, like you and the vast majority of your envoys?" Riversong inquired, throwing his arm up so that his Bondbird could land. The enormous Hawk-owl landed lightly and carefully hopped up his arm to sit calmly on his shoulder.

She shuddered at the idea of how close that wickedly curved beak was to his eyes. Only the Hawkbrothers could stand there calmly having a conversation with a raptor large enough to kill a man perched upon their shoulders. "No, there wasn't the time to have him made into a wingsib. I returned from a short assignment only this morning and was informed that they had given me an internee. Apparently, he's uniquely suited to serve as an envoy to the Vales and to White Gryphon."

Riversong sighed. "He will have to stay outside of the Vale until he is made a wingsibling." He announced, reaching up to stroke the plush feathers of his bondbird's breast. "The Clan trusts your judgment, Holly, after all, you are of K'Valdemar Vale and not K'Treva. Do you trust him? Do you think he will be able to take the oaths required and keep an open mind? I know most people not of the clans shutter at the mere thought of communal bathing, and cannot understand our openness and acceptance in regards to those who share a bed."

Holly groaned. "Honestly, I don't know the boy that well yet. I met him only a Candlemark ago, so I can't answer you with any certainty. He was 'gently born' I can tell you that just by looking at him, and historically it has always been the highborn who are touchy on the subject of shay pairings. Something about carrying on the family line and lineage – I've never really understood it, but then again I was born a street urchin. However, I can tell you that the Crown wouldn't send a Herald to you who they didn't think capable of adapting quickly."

Riversong opened his mouth to speak, but Conrart beat him to it, muttering something under his breath that was just too low for her to make out.

"I can assure you the thought of communal baths and relationships between people of the same gender are hardly something I would consider a novelty," Conrart informed them both in near flawless Tayledras "since both are quite common in my culture."

Riversong blinked, and then he laughed. Holly on the other hand could only gape at her young internee. "Well, that's a good thing, and if your own people share our sensibilities in regards to love then I am sure you will do fine here. Out of curiosity, where did you learn to speak our language? You speak it like a native, yet you have a very slight accent so I know you weren't given it by one of the Dyheli. That and your vocabulary seems to be a bit archaic."

"Vanyel taught me actually. When I first arrived in Valdemar he said it was likely I would eventually have dealings with the clans, so I learned as much of your language as possible," Conrart replied, leaning forward so that he rested against the curve of his Companion's neck.

Holly blinked, and finally regained command of her tongue. "How did you manage to find the most famous Companion on the field, and convince him to even talk to you – let alone teach you the command of a completely foreign and highly complicated tongue?"

As usual she couldn't read Conrart's expression. However, it was an unfamiliar mindvoice that answered her. _: I wasn't that hard to find, all things considered; finding him so that I could actually Choose him was by far more strenuous than actually teaching him command of the Tayledras language – he's a fast learner. : _

The stallion took a step forward and continued, with his mental voice still pitched to broad send, although it was clear his words were for Riversong's benefit. _: As to who will stand as a sponsor for my Chosen, I would do it myself, if it were possible. But even if you were willing to let me stand as his sponsor, despite the fact that I technically stopped being a member of the living centuries ago, I am unwilling to leave my Chosen alone beyond the safety of the Vale's shields. As such may I inquire if Firesong is currently in residence? If not, would you be so kind as to find me one of my other descendents so that I may ask one of them to stand as sponsor to my Chosen? : _

Riversong smiled, his eyes gaining the slightly unfocused look of somebody using Mindspeech to speak with another. "He's on his way," he said after a moment, his eyes clearing.

~~~***~~~

Firesong was more than a little surprised when Riversong's mind touched his own. The scout was in contact with him only long enough to inform him that his presence was required out by the Gate site. This was an interesting request to be sure, particularly since there was no urgency in his mental voice. He shrugged his shoulders, bid his Lifebond lover Silverfox a heartfelt goodbye, and set off for the gate site, launching his Bondbird Aya into the air.

It didn't take long to reach the Gate site by Dyheli back, so he left his long time friend waiting for him under the shade of a massive tree and walked the last few kilometers to the Gate site, ready to defend himself and the seven scouts from any danger if he had to, and trusting in Aya to give him forewarning.

What he found when he arrived truly startled him. Riversong stood quietly talking with a somewhat familiar Herald-mage. Holly looked slightly put out as she leaned casually against Rohanan's well muscled shoulder. The other scouts stood nearby, especially Honeyfeather who was talking animatedly with a young man dressed in Heraldic Whites. He snorted at his young cousin's antics—at 14 Honeyfeather was old enough to be considered an adult, but she was still likely to flirt with anything male.

He reached for her mind with his own; the uniform and the Companion the man was currently leaning against told them he was a Herald and thus trustworthy. But it still wouldn't do to have her drop her guard simply because someone appeared to be safe.

_: Since when do you worry so much, cousin? : _Honeyfeather retorted, and then added. _: Besides, he's cute. : _

Firesong let his eyes roam over the young man… _Oh if only he wasn't lifebonded. _The lad was actually _quite _handsome - in a delicately, effeminate sort of way. He was possibly even more effeminate looking then his famed ancestor the legendary herald-mage Vanyel had been. Long almost light cinnamon brown hair touched with red and gold highlights fell just past his shoulders, and complemented his solemn, quiet eyes. He was tall, about 6 feet, maybe even a bit taller, with broad shoulders that tapered to a surprisingly slim waist, and long shapely legs. Lithe, that was the only way he could think to describe the boy. Even through his clothing, Firesong could tell the boy was leanly muscled.

_Down boy, _He berated himself mildly. _You are happily lifebonded, even if he does have a rather shapely ass and enticingly long legs. And his delicate throat… I just want to - _

_: Are you – quite- done ogling my Chosen, Grandson? :_

Firesong jumped a good three feet and turned his attention to the Companion stallion in front of him. "Vanyel," he gasped, mouth hanging open in surprise. "Ancestor, is that truly you?"

_: The very same—now you might want to close your mouth, unless you want your bondbird nesting in there. : _Vanyel's response was tart, and the stallion pawed the ground in an almost threatening manner.

_: Okay, so beautiful boy Chosen is off limits. I get it, I get it. No need to kill me, Ancestor. : _Firesong replied mildly.

Vanyel snorted derisively but he stopped pawing the ground, and became a little more amiable despite his laidback ears. _: Actually, you don't get it, but I trust that you won't do anything. He is lifebonded, though he's being stubborn and refusing to acknowledge the fact, and thus is off limits. :_

Firesong looked at the boy in a new light. He was no longer looking at his body for its aesthetic appeal, but rather in an attempt to read the other man's body language. Idly he wondered how in the nine hells he'd overlooked the rather obvious stubborn streak. _: You have my word that he'll get not but friendship out of me ancestor. He is a stubborn one I can see that, it looks like you'll have your work cut out for you with him. That aside, why did they call for me? :_

Firesong blinked as Vanyel gave a slight tug on a mental line he'd only just noticed and a new mind brushed his own. He smiled as Vanyel explained the problem and what he wanted of him. It wouldn't be a problem he decided; Vanyel was after all family. That made young Conrart family of a sort.

"It would be my honor, Ancestor." He proudly replied, then he turned and looked at the man the gods had seen fit to match with his ancestor. He could see how he would be worthy of Vanyel and thus worthy of the clans. "Welcome to the clan, little brother."

~~~***~~~

Conrart sighed and settled himself down against a smoothly carved stone bench set into the wall of an old cave. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, content to wait for the ceremony to come. He doubted that he would sleep, but if he did happen to, he knew Vanyel would keep him safe. He spent these hours of isolation from what was to become his clan silently reminiscing about the past. He thought about his childhood, and the games that he'd played with Yozak.

He remembered the pain of his little brother's sudden disgust with him after the boy had discovered his mixed heritage; he looked over his life before the war, and since. He thought of his joy when his Godson took the throne and his minor amusement at the fact that the boy's mother had named him after a word he'd mentioned in passing the day where they'd shared a cab together before she'd given birth. In some ways it really was quite funny that their king's name literally meant July.

Finally, about two hours before sunset, he fell into a light doze.

~~~***~~~

_A.N. _

_Okay so here's the next chapter and I have a few more written that still require editing so hang in there please read and review. _


	29. attack of the killer plant

Chapter 29: Attack of the killer plant

Yozak groaned as he and Koren rode quietly through the deepening gloom of Wyrfen Forest. He guessed it to be about noon; however, it was really hard to tell since the Mage Storms had warped both the land and the Animals that lived there. The forest had once been deciduous, and Yozak would have had little trouble gauging the time from beneath the forest bowers, but now there was nothing but thick branches overhead, effectively plunging them into darkness.

He ducked a low hanging branch with ease. This forest had once been full of wild and feral boar, and considered very dangerous because of these and other creatures that it housed. Now it was home to a whole slew of change-boars, which effectively made the forest even more deadly than before.

They had ridden into a small village on the fringes of the Ashkevron territory just this morning, and the panicked villagers had immediately informed them of a Change Boar that they were calling Twelve Tusk – for his numerous tusks. Apparently Twelve Tusk had taken a liking to human flesh and even preferred the softer meat of young children. To make matters worse, a few of the village boys had gotten into a fight yesterday afternoon. Two young boys had been shadowing their elder brother, trying to act exactly as he acted and in general just pestered the older boy. Annoyed with his siblings and the teasing of his peers the boy had – somewhat imperiously – informed his little brothers that they were too little to do anything and that he would not be seen with them until they'd done something notable (or by adult standards something notably stupid and potentially life threatening) like spending the night alone in the woods. The older boy truly had no ill intent, and had never expected his little brothers to actually do it, especially not with Twelve Tusk dragging young helpless victims into the forest almost every two days like clockwork.

Sadly, the boy had underestimated the reverence his younger siblings had for him, and ran off with his still jeering friends, blissfully unaware of the fact that his brothers were about to put themselves in mortal danger.

He closed his eyes briefly, trusting in Jissa to keep him safe during his brief moment of inattention. What had occurred was not an uncommon thing between siblings. He remembered the many times and many ways Conrart had tried to prove he was just as good at, just as brave as, or better at something than Gwendal. It was all youthful idiocy, and Gwendal had been old enough to recognize it for exactly what it was by the time Conrart was old enough to idolize his elder brother, and definitely old enough to understand it for what it was by the time Wolfram started. As such, he was also well aware of just how far his younger siblings would go in pursuit of his respect, and made absolutely sure to carefully steer them away from anything that could have resulted in their deaths.

These three boys hadn't nearly been as lucky.

Ryan, the eldest, was only nine, and had been completely certain his four and five year old younger brothers would never do anything as stupid as what he had rather sarcastically suggested. If anything happened to the two boys, their elder brother would likely never forgive himself.

Abruptly Yozak ducked his head and crouched lower in the saddle as the wind whistled with the passing of something large overhead. He opened his eyes just in time to see the huge green, modified leaf vanish into the canopy above. He hollered a warning to Koren - if he was having trouble seeing through the din, the other Herald had to be nearly blind – as two more vines, each with their own snapping leafs, shot out of the canopy.

He clamped his legs tightly around Jissa's barrel as the mare shied violently to the side, barely avoiding the snapping leaf that was now buried in the ground right where they'd been only seconds before. He dropped the completely useless reins, drew his sword, and severed the modified leaf blade from its petiole in one fluid movement. Green slime sprayed from the severed stem as the hissing plant withdrew back up into the canopy.

Damn, he hated Change-beasts!

Or in this case Change-plants.

He glanced down at his sword; the blade was coated in that thick green slime. With disgust, he rummaged through his packs for a scrap of cloth to clean his blade as Jissa started forward again. He'd only just managed to wipe the blade clean when something that just felt distinctly wrong pressed in on him. Jissa reared immediately, pivoting sharply on her hind hooves to face the new threat. Beside her, Amanda did the same.

He reached out with his Animal Mindspeech, searching for the creature that felt wrong; experience had taught him that Change-beasts felt different than the ones that hadn't been touched by twisted magic.

_: Talking Food. :_

That was the only warning he got before the enormous boar charged, launching itself into the air in an attack that would bring his tusks in range of their chests. Jissa and Mandy danced to the side, trying desperately to keep their Heralds out of the reach of huge tusks and the many sharp quills that adorned the creature's neck. Yozak tossed his sword lightly into his left hand and slashed at the creature as it flew past. The tip of his blade did astoundingly little damage to Twelve Tusk's hide.

Jissa had gotten far enough away that neither she nor Yozak were more than scratched; Koren and Mandy however were closer to the beast to begin with, and Yozak noticed blood oozing down Koren's Whites and across Mandy's tack. He quickly assessed the other Herald's and Companion's wounds with the practiced eye of a well trained spy and a soldier who had survived the frontlines of an extremely bloody battle. They didn't look too bad; a few of them were very deep but most would stop bleeding on their own before too much blood was lost. The others would need to be stitched or at least bandaged.

Yozak shifted slightly in his saddle and relayed his thoughts to Jissa, who in turn relayed them to Mandy, and maneuvered herself around so that the two of them were a living shield between Koren, Mandy, and the boar. He sheathed his sword in one fluid movement and pulled his bow free of its bag. Hooking the bottom arm against one booted heel, he bent the weapon until the string slipped into place. Then he pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched it, and waited, with every sense alert for the Boar's next move.

When Twelve Tusk burst out of the brush again, he aimed and fired.

He was only mildly surprised when the beast swerved sharply to the left, and the arrow embedded itself in one well muscled shoulder and not his target, which proved again how much more intelligent this Change-boar was from a true boar. Yozak swore and pulled three more arrows from his quiver, holding two of them in his teeth, aimed, and fired again. The boar dodged.

But the second and third arrows were already in the air, and headed straight for their target. All the while, he kept careful tabs on the wind. He didn't have Conrart's fetching gift, but an arrow was subject to the wind it flew through. If it came down to it, the very wind could be his weapon.

The first arrow struck the thick hide of the animal's haunches and stuck slightly; the second imbedded itself in the creature's flank.

The third imbedded itself into the flesh at the base of the neck, blending in with the quills at the animal's neck almost perfectly except for the fletching.

Twelve Tusk screamed in rage and deviated from his original course. Yozak smiled—if there was one thing he'd learned in his short (by demonic standards anyway) life it was that if you got your opponent angry enough, they would abandon all sense and come after you with raw rage, which in turn gave you the upper hand. People who fought with their emotions made mistakes, and mistakes got you killed on the battlefield.

The boar had been going for Koren since the injuries he and Mandy had sustained made him the weaker more vulnerable opponent. Yozak knew this and deliberately set out to enrage the beast, hoping to turn its attention from his injured mentor to him. He fired another arrow before Twelve Tusk got close enough to render the arrows ineffective.

He drew his sword and clung to Jissa with his knees. Jissa half-reared in warning before rearing to her full height, and twisting around to present the smallest target possible to the angry beast. Yozak slashed at Twelve Tusk as he blew by, tearing a thin shallow gash through the boar's tough hide.

_:Hold on.: _

That was the only warning he got before Jissa pivoted around, slammed her hooves to the ground, and lashed out with her back legs in a vicious kick that caught the enraged animal firmly on the rump. The boar pivoted and came at them again with murder in his beady red eyes. Again Jissa reared up to evade the animal's attack, and he lashed out with his sword, tearing another strip out of the boar's hide.

As the boar blew past, Jissa dropped quickly to all fours and danced to the side, putting them further out of the enraged boar's reach. The boar charged once more, and again he was met with a slash of Yozak's sword along with a vicious kick from Jissa. Twelve Tusk wasn't stupid though; he kept himself firmly out of effective firing range, and now he was simply too close for Yozak's arrows to be effective against his tough hide. But Yozak was content to slash that hide into shallow ribbons until he could get off a shot.

The arrow came out of nowhere. One moment it was gone, and the next it was imbedded in the boar's haunch, right in the middle of one of the gashes that had opened up in its hide.

Koren had rejoined the fight, peppering the boar with arrows while Yozak and Jissa slashed at his hide and darted out of range again.

After a moment Twelve Tusk, now deeply enraged, turned and went after Koren again. The older Herald fired off two more arrows before he was forced to draw his sword. Amanda dodged to the left, shying and rearing sharply as she did her best to evade the enraged animal's deadly tusks. The boar was now more of a physical threat to Koren and Mandy than he was to Yozak and Jissa, particularly since Mandy wasn't nearly as agile as Jissa.

This was a good turn of events.

Koren's sword was longer than Yozak's (not that they'd ever compared), but the half demon was the better marksmen.

Yozak sheathed his sword, grabbed hold of his bow, and drew three more arrows from his quiver, firing in rapid succession.

The arrows landed in a cluster at the base of the boar's neck, and the last one struck dead center between the first two.

Twelve Tusk dropped to the floor, squealing his rage and hate, no longer in control of his own legs.

Yozak sighed and hung his bow from his saddle horn before dismounting. He never had it in him to watch something slowly bleed to death. So despite the fact that it would likely have been safer to just stay in his saddle, he calmly made his way over to the boar and drew his knife as he did so. It would be kinder to slit the animal's throat than to let it bleed out.

He reached for the animal with his mind and tried to sooth it. Nothing deserved to suffer that much as it died.

He slit the animal's throat in one swift movement, but before he could rise to his feet –

- Two sows charged him.

He swore and rolled to the side, just in time, drawing his sword as he sprang to his feet. Jissa trumpeted her rage and flung herself into the mist of the two enraged beasts in an effort to keep them away from him. With Yozak on the ground and Jissa a swiftly moving mass of white battering her way to his side, Koren couldn't fire his arrows. The risk of hitting either Herald or Companion was too great.

Cursing under his breath, the (physically) older man drew his sword and charged into the fray, clinging easily to his own Companion's back as the mare made use of her deadly hooves. Yozak didn't have a chance to get into his own saddle since the physically smaller and heavily armored sows were faster and more agile than their enormous mate. Heralds didn't carry boar spears, and since two young boys were lost and in danger in the woods, their first duty had been to find them, so they didn't have time to waste in riding out to get the large weapons.

It was proving to be a dangerous necessity, but a necessity nonetheless. He worked desperately to bring down the crazed animals, but they refused to see reason. He countered their every move with vicious and calculating swipes of his sword. One of the sows squealed in pain as his sword sliced into its haunch. He was so involved in staying alive long enough to find out what had happened to those two little boys that he didn't notice them until a flying rock struck one of the boars in the shoulder.

"You weve the nice Herowd awone, you big fat meany head." The little boy shouted, stooping down to grab yet another stone.

Yozak swore heavily—of all the times to find the kids, it had to be now. He turned sharply and managed to land a lucky strike which tore a strip from one sow's side, severing the nerves in both the front and back legs. She went down squealing in pain, bleeding profusely. With the nerves on one side of her body severed, she was unable to get back up, and thus was no longer a threat. As much as it pained him to let anything die a slow death, he didn't have the time for a mercy killing, especially when the other sow was headed straight for the two little boys.

"Jissa, the boys!" he shouted, horrified. There was no way he'd be able to get to them in time. If Conrart had been here, his friend would simply have fetched the two little boys out of harm's way. He however didn't have that option. He paused, coming to a dead halt, and called the Vrondi. The wind roared forward at his command, knocking the sow off course, and the two boys bolted in opposite directions.

The elder of the two bolted to the left and was almost immediately scooped up out of harm's way by Herald Koren. Yozak kept his attention on the sow and the terrified four-year-old she was currently chasing. He lashed out at the creature again and again, knocking it off course repeatedly with hard gusts of air. Abruptly he realized exactly where the little boy was headed and fear lent him a swiftness he had never thought possible.

He dropped his sword, giving no thoughts to the sow or even the fact that without the sharp weapon he was basically helpless. His outstretched palm connected with the space between the small child's shoulder blades, and shoved the small boy out of the way of the rapidly descending leaves of the carnivorous plant just in time. Then he watched in shock as the second leaf snapped up the vainly struggling boar, and he had just enough time to appreciate the irony before darkness closed around him.

_Well Conrad, _he thought sarcastically, _I went to Luttenberg with you despite your protests, and came back one of the only two survivors. I spent more than 25 years as a spy, and even survived life in that village before you and your father rescued me the day we first met. I walked into Belar's castle to retrieve you and came out alive. How funny that my death would come at the hands of a bit of vegetation. _

He felt himself going limp because there wasn't any reason to fight. He was calm, comfortable, and strangely giddy. Briefly it occurred to him that euphoria was an odd emotion to be feeling when one was about to be eaten by what amounted to an impossibly large arboreal, hanging Venus Fly trap. However, the thought only lasted less than the span of a second before it too was lost to the euphoria.

_:Chosen!: _Jissa's mental voice rang through his very being like a bell. _: Chosen, fight, damn it all! Yozak, you need to fight! :_

_Fight? Why would he want to do that? He was comfortable and warm. Nothing could hurt him here. Everything was perfect, there was no one to protect, nothing to fight against, and everything was warm and good. _

_: You must fight! : _But Jissa's mental voice was rapidly fading away.

Memories of his life, of happy times when he'd been a carefree child flashed across his mind's eye. He was a young child scarcely older than 19 chasing his best friend across the palace grounds, with peals of laughter ringing through the wind. He was up a tree in the woods beyond Covenant Castle, with Conrart in his arms.

Then the world spun sharply. It was getting hard to breath, but he couldn't muster the strength to care beyond the all consuming euphoria.

~~~***~~~

Koren swore to himself, trying vainly to find a way to free the other Herald from the man eating plant. Jissa reared, screaming with mind and voice, battering the trunk of what was likely the host tree with her hooves. His Mandy stood silently off to the side with the two small, badly shaken boys occupying her saddle. He could try climbing the tree Jissa was currently battering, but there was no guarantee that it would be the right tree. And even if it was, there was no guarantee that Yozak would even still be alive.

The boys would be safe enough with the Companions. With his decision made, he sheathed his sword and began to climb.

~~~***~~~

A.N Okay another Chapter done, hay please review. Please my muse could use a kick in the pants and maybe it will make The Grammar Nazi hurry up and edit the next chapter so I can post it. OooH Cliffy. Also should Conrad n Yozak's demonic gifts only work in Valdemar? Or should they work in the demon lands as well. I leave that up 2 u. so review.


	30. damned demented Salad!

Conrart couldn't help the smile on his face as he wandered down the Vale paths, following quietly in Firesong's wake. The man was easily as dramatic as Lord von Kleist, but at least he didn't seem to suffer from Günter's infamous nosebleeds. A little less than an hour ago when the sun was high, Firesong had come for him. Not only did the man sponsor him for the position of Wingsib as he'd promised Vanyel he would, but had adopted him fully into the Clan K'Teva as his little brother.

Firesong's reasoning – when he'd attempted to argue – was simple enough. Apparently the man felt that because Vanyel had Chosen him, and Vanyel was the father of two of the clan's most powerful lines, that a place within the clans, and the comfort and protection that it provided was Conrart's by right. Conrart's objections and arguments about propriety and family ties had been overruled by the entirety of Firesong's extended family, who wholeheartedly supported the flamboyant mage's belief that since Vanyel had Chosen him, he was already family.

Yozak was going to have a field day when he found out about this!

So now he had two elder brothers, although he wasn't sure which of the two was technically the eldest. Obviously Gwendal was the elder in terms of actual years, particularly considering the fact that the man was 216. Hell, even Wolfram was chronologically older then Firesong, and he was only 97. The question was who was older physically? Gwendal looked to be around 30 years old, and Wolfram looked the equivalent of about 16. The problem was that he couldn't really tell how old Firesong was, and the feathered mask obscuring his face was simply not helping. However, he thought the man to be in his late 30's to early 40's.

He sighed, wondering just how his family would take the news of his literally being adopted into a different family. Suppressing the urge to groan, he dismissed the thought as inconsequential. He settled himself down on the plush carpet of grass and mosses that comprised the riverbank and tried to ignore his new 'elder brother' as the flamboyant man twittered on about how drab his name was. Conrart glanced up as Firesong's lifemate - the kesteretern – Silverfox sat down gracefully beside him.

"You'll get used to him soon, Youngling. He is as magnificent as his name entails; just remember not to get too close to the dancing flames or you'll be burned." Silverfox said in a tone oddly reminiscent of the Great Sage.

Conrart shifted slightly, allowing the Destier to pool in his hand and twine themselves around his fingers like slim snakes. "Thank you, I'll remember that." He replied calmly, raising an eyebrow as Firesong prattled on about the many possibilities available for giving him a 'proper Tayledras name'. Then he asked "Is he seriously contemplating changing my name?"

"Sadly yes," Silverfox replied, with a hint of exasperation in his tone. "I'm afraid once he gets an idea in his head, it's rather hard to get it out again and he is very fond of drama. Just remember, in the clans it's not what we call you but what you answer to that matters. He can't rename you, unless you allow it."

Conrart sighed, and continued to carry on an intelligent conversation with Silverfox while Firesong came up with increasingly odd and flamboyant names in the background. With the addition of Stormblade to the growing list of suggestions, he began to lose his temper with the flamboyant man who kept referring to him only as 'little brother' and muttering to himself about how drab the name Conrart was, and how no 'sibling of his would keep such a ridiculously dull name'.

Conrart resisted the urge to rub his brow, feeling his eyebrow twitch. "You don't have to worry about me getting burnt, I have enough experience with fire to ensure that I don't." he interjected mildly, flicking his fingers up repetitively in a subtle motion as he spoke, drawing the river water up as he did so.

"Firesong," he said simply, ignoring Silverfox's confused expression. "Conrart is fine."

He then proceeded to douse the aptly named peacock with a wave of river water shaped suspiciously like a small dragon. Completely drenched, Firesong gasped, sputtered and flailed about like a graceless wet cat.

"This was a new mask!" the man whined, still floundering about in his sodden mage robes, completely oblivious to the fact that his left shoulder with its supple leather guard was completely dry. Aya, the man's bondbird alighted calmly on a branch, with not a single feather wet or out of place, and showered them all with false sparks for the indignation, despite the fact that he had never been in any danger of a cold dunking.

Conrart gave the still sputtering, silver haired, adept a cheeky grin that was worthy of Yozak and rose gracefully to his feet. "As I said Firesong, Conrart is fine. It has served me well for over 130 years, and I see no need to change it now."

"Fine then, if you really must keep such a drab name. Wait—130 years?!!" Firesong yelped the last bit, his voice shrill with disbelief.

Conrart raised an eyebrow, and adopted a stance Günter would have recognized from his days as the man's student. It was a stance that quite plainly said I-can-and-will-out-stubborn-you. His professor had always hated that stance, as it had always heralded the coming of a rather stressful day. "137 years to be precise. It has served me well; I'll not abandon it simply because you cannot see the value of it."

Firesong blinked behind his mask. Then he laughed, and proceeded to ring out his long scallop shelled sleeves. "You," he said mildly "are as stubborn as Dar'rin. But then I guess your reasoning is the same as his, little brother."

Conrart snorted in a very unprincely fashion; he was beginning to understand how Yuri felt in the face of Shori's 'big brother complex' and his own teasing 'Heika'. He however always referred to the young king by name after Yuri requested it, to the point that it had become a mutual game between them. "I have a name Firesong, please use it." He was fighting hard to keep a lid on his temper after his former outburst.

"Oh very well," Firesong said his voice full of exasperation. "Be dull and boring Con'rart. When you get bored with the name, don't come crying to me."

Conrart sighed, and didn't even bother with attempting to correct the other man's pronunciation of his name. "That is all I ask." He replied mildly.

Firesong nodded. "So," he asked after a second. "Are you a mage?"

"No, I am Mazoku." Conrart told him simply.

Firesong opened his mouth to reply but Silverfox beat him to it. "If you are not a mage, youngling, how is it that you made a serpent out of water and set it upon Firesong?"

"Mazoku are elementals."

Silverfox nodded, "Do you have sway over every element or just a few?" he asked after a second's consideration.

Conrart smiled, remembering a time many years ago when they'd had to answer Yuri's questions. "The powers reflect the soul." He said simply, unintentionally quoting Gwendal.

Silverfox smiled, "Judging by your personality and how expertly you extinguished Firesong, I guess you are a Water elemental." He paused long enough for Conrart to nod in response before continuing. "Are there any Ma'zo'ku who can wield them all?" he asked, tripping a bit over the pronunciation of 'Mazoku'.

"Only the Maoh," Conrart replied mildly, a look of pride on his face.

Firesong looked confused. "Maoh?" he asked after a second.

Conrart smiled. "Our king," he replied. He would have said more, but then the world began to spin.

He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't muster the energy to be concerned. He was floating, floating in a sea of euphoria, his body burning in pin sized sections and he couldn't bring himself to care. His knees buckled, and he went down. He was drifting, caught in a riptide of ecstasy, and struggling to keep his head above the water. Something was not right, but he couldn't place it, couldn't figure out why this was wrong.

Suddenly Vanyel was there.

He felt something; a sharp pull coupled with a wrenching sensation, as his Companion forcibly yanked him out of Yozak's consciousness and returned him to his body. The bond between himself and his best friend flared, and he screamed. A single agonized cry of _"YOZAK!" _tore itself from his mind and his throat. Overcome by anguish and fear, he fought for consciousness.

And lost, fading into the rising darkness.

~~~***~~~

_:YOZAK!:_

Conrad's voice tore through his enforced calm. Yozak came back to himself all at once. His body burned, and for a moment he was completely flabbergasted by the sea of endless green that had quite literally engulfed him. Then he remembered—the little village at the edge of Wyrfren woods, the two boys who'd become lost within its borders, the change-boars that had developed a taste for human flesh, and the man eating plant.

The man eating plant.

_Ah Shit!_

He swore, and began to struggle. There wasn't enough room to move, and he could barely reach his belt-knife. He gasped, fighting for every breath he took. Jissa's voice in his mind spurred him on. She flung him a line of power, lending him her strength, but it was the terror and pain in Conrart's voice that forced him to act long after he'd lost the strength to.

Yozak ignored the sharp pain that lanced up his arm when he unintentionally sliced open the palm of his hand. He swore, struggling to keep his grasp on the knife, his hand clutching the blade. He stabbed at the inside of the leaf with the knife, ignoring the burn of the plant slime as the enzymes washed over his cut. Blood dripped steadily down the groove in the blade, until it finally dripped onto the exposed flesh of the man eating plant.

A sharp sound, like water striking white hot stone accompanied the contact of blood and plant. His world shook violently, like something had picked him up by the scruff of the neck and proceeded to whip him violently about. The plant let out an air rending torrent of sound that was more primal hiss than shriek of pain.

Abruptly he was airborne.

Flying through the air in a less than graceful tumble

The ground rushing up to met him at an impossibly fast pace!

He landed hard, his back striking the earth with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs and leave him dazed. Above him the plant writhed in agony, emitting a string of noses he associated more with a tortured snake than a plant. Sizzling green goo sprayed forth from its leaves in manner reminiscent of spittle; it was as if the plant had unexpectedly ingested something it was horrified and disgusted by.

Despite himself, he felt vaguely insulted.

"I bet you don't taste good either, _YOU DAMNED DEMENTED SALAD!!!" _he shouted, rising to his feet, and shaking his uninjured fist at the thing, before attempting to wipe green slime from his face with the sleeve of his whites, only to realize he was bathed from head to toe in the sticky, green, mucous-like substance that still burned.

Utterly disgusted, he turned and headed off in the direction of a nearby forest stream, with Jissa trailing behind him. He couldn't see it, and he didn't know exactly where it was but he could sure as hell hear it, and that was all that mattered.

~~~***~~~

Conrart groaned as he crawled back into the land of the living, wondering all the while why he'd lost consciousness. Then he remembered—Yozak. Yozak was in trouble, possibly dying, and there was nothing he could do to help his beloved friend. Suddenly Vanyel was there, comforting him, soothing him, reassuring him. Yozak was fine, safe and out of harm's way. He relaxed against the mound of pillows, glad his dear friend was alright.

That was when he realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. In fact he was naked except for his underwear. Someone had removed the bulk of his clothing and tucked him securely into bed. He felt a brief moment of panic flare in his breast before common sense returned. A nearly hidden door off to the side of the room opened, and he clutched the sheets to his body in mild alarm. It was only Silverfox.

"Oh good, your awake." Silverfox said mildly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a dragon sat on me." He replied, without bothering to give it much thought.

Silverfox raised one sculpted brow. "Dragon?" he asked.

"Giant, fire-breathing lizard; they're about 4 maybe 5 times the size of a Gryphon."

Silverfox flinched. "Ouch," he said after a minute. "Truthfully I'm not all that surprised though, considering you look like you where run over by an entire herd of Dyheli."

"Thanks," Conrart retorted sardonically.

Silverfox lifted one shoulder in a half hearted shrug. "So," he said after a few seconds of oddly comfortable silence. "Who's Yozak?"

Conrart blinked, startled by the question. Briefly he wondered where the other man had even heard the name. Then he realized he must have cried out for Yozak, either in his sleep or before he'd passed out. "I'm going to assume I said that out loud."

Silverfox smiled, "Yes, you did."

"Yozak is my best friend; we've known each other since we were young." Conrart replied after a moment.

"I see," Silverfox said simply, keeping his voice soft and unimposing. "Can you tell me where he is, youngling?"

Conrart blinked. "He's riding the Lake Evindim circuit, and is currently somewhere east of Ashkevron Manor." He replied without thinking about it. "Why?"

Silverfox smiled. "No particular reason. However, are you sure this Yozak is nothing more to you than an old friend?"

"What kind of question is that?" Conrart asked, his voice a study in controlled calm, as he tried valiantly not to go on the defensive. "Of course I am sure; we have been friends since we were boys. Why do you ask?"

The smile Silverfox gave him was reminiscent of the Great Sage and frankly a bit creepy. "Is it normal for friends to know each other's whereabouts so accurately when such a great distance stands between them?"

"I have always known where Yozak is and what he is doing." Conrart replied simply. "There are days when it's almost impossible to determine where one of us ends and the other begins."

Silverfox's smile was gentle, but Conrart knew it for what it was. That smile plainly asked 'I-have-led-you-to-water-now-will-you-drink?' The man rose to his feet and smiled at him before turning to leave. "Precisely, youngling; perhaps you should think on that awhile before you claim to be naught but friends with the other lad." He said over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

~~~***~~~

A.N.

Okay so here is the next chapter. What do you think? Please read and review.


	31. bonding

Yozak bit back a groan as he swung up into Jissa's saddle. He'd spent the last week in the care of the Healer at Ashkevron manor along with Koren. Today they were finally setting out on their circuit again. His ribs still ached from the bruises, but at least they were no longer broken. Koren's wounds were healed, just as Jissa's and Mandy's were, but that was the difference in lacerations, bruises, abrasions and six broken ribs.

He glanced over at Koren as they set out. He was bored, and they were now a week behind schedule, so they might as well make small talk. "You told me once that you were the oldest out of five children, and that when you were Chosen you were lost and wandering by the side of the road. If you don't mind my asking how did you get there?"

Koren sighed. "As you know, I was 12 when Mandy Chose me and I tried to convince her that I wasn't worthy of being Chosen. Obviously, she didn't listen to me. What I didn't tell you is that I . . . I have a bit of an irrational fear of water."

"Wait, you're afraid of water and they're sending us up to Lake Evindim. Am I the only one who sees the problem here?" Yozak interjected.

Koren gave him a weak smile. "I'm not as bad as I once was. Sherrel and Keren taught me how to swim when I first came to the Collegium nearly 18 years ago. I could always swim a little, and Talia's still working with me on it now. I'm not phobic, not anymore, I . . . I just have a bit of an unhealthy respect for the stuff."

Yozak inclined his head, and bit back his customary witty retort—it would be out of place here.

"When I was 10, I- I watched my baby sister Andrea, drown. She was six-years-old, and a bit of a tomboy. Really it wasn't all that surprising, not when she was the only girl. Andrew never forgave me for letting her drown. Not that I blame him, he was only six and he was simply reacting to Father. Anyway, I'd been goofing off with my younger brothers, and Alexander dared me to attempt to swim the river. Foolishly I accepted the challenge and tried it. But it was spring and the river was colder and deeper than normal. Despite how calm the water looked, the current was far too strong. I'd never been the best swimmer, and I'd developed a fear of the stuff two years prior when one of the village boys held me under. I remember fighting for each breath, and screaming for my brothers. Andrew went for our father but Alexander and Marcus just stood there. I don't know what she was thinking, but Andrea, she came in after me. We washed ashore about a mile downstream. I survived – she didn't." Koren was looking down at the crest of Mandy's neck as he spoke.

After a moment he continued. "Our- our father was furious. He, he blamed me for her death; I know he was wrong now, but then – I couldn't live with myself. Living with four people who believed you responsible for the death of your little sister and who shared that belief with the other villagers was hard, I often thought of running away. Mother kept telling me it wasn't my fault, and for a while I believed her, and was never far from her side. But then there was a bandit raid the summer after and my mother was injured. My father blamed me for that too; he said I was cursed, 'brought bad luck to the family'. He was convinced that if I didn't leave I'd get someone else killed. So I left, in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothing on my back and a small knife, and he didn't even try to stop me. I was wandering alone for five and a half months when Mandy found me and gave me a home."

Yozak didn't know what to say. Somehow 'I'm sorry' just didn't feel appropriate.

~~~***~~~

Conrart sighed as he walked through the Vale. In the week and a half since he'd been here, he'd had no less than 16 propositions from persons of both genders. He was no stranger to the concept of same sex pairings, but he had to admit the idea of multiple participants was not something he was entirely comfortable with. He was very glad Darkwind and Elspeth had been thorough in their lessons. He shuddered to think of the problems that would have arisen had he not known that the gift of a feather was an invitation to participate in exercises of the carnal nature.

The gift of a flower meant the same thing.

It was interesting work serving as an Envoy to the clans, but it was nothing he couldn't handle, and for now he was more of an observer anyway. Holly handled almost everything while he watched, waited, learned, and at times held his tongue. She gave him odd things to do, small tasks embarrassingly similar to things he executed flawlessly as a small child.

It was the way of things.

At the beginning of a Herald's internship ride, his councilor handled almost everything since they were the one with all the practical experience. Ironically enough in this case, he was the one with more experience, both practical and probable. Holly would have to live at least two life times and be born a high ranked noble to have the same amount of experience as he did.

Yet he held his tongue, refusing to undermine her authority by questioning her judgment and methods. He did ask her for her reasoning behind closed doors, listened to her arguments, asked for clarification, and eloquently suggested modifications to her methods. His relationship with Holly was an odd one; they didn't exactly mesh, but they were Heralds, so they managed to get along.

So now he was walking through the Vale, lost in his thoughts about the last round of diplomatic debates that Holly had insisted he observe. For now he was supposed to reflect on her actions and inform her of what she had done and the reasons why he suspected she'd done it, in addition to what he would have done differently and why. The latter was truly the easier of the two questions, and it was the second half of the first that he was currently contemplating. Why that woman did what she did this afternoon, was as much a mystery to him as exactly how Anissina had managed to turn him green when he only 30.

A small, slightly high pitched mindvoice caught his attention, and it took him a moment to realize he was hearing a bondbird, and a moment longer to realize that it was a very young bondbird.

_:I Not Weak! : _The voice snapped angrily.

He paused and looked around before continuing on, trying to shield out the little voice and the three jeering ones that accompanied it. Children would be children after all, and in this case he guessed fledglings would be fledglings.

_: Albino weak. : _A second male voice jeered. _: Weak,: _the other two voices, one male and one female, chorused.

The first voice was back, full of sorrow, pain and a stubbornness that Conrart recognized from his own childhood. _: Not weak! Not Albino, White! :_

He looked around trying to find the little bird, hoping to give comfort and help in some small way. However, all he could figure out was that the bird was somewhere up. He called to the little birds to leave their, friend (?), nest mate (?), sibling(?), alone but they either didn't hear him or ignored him.

_:Never fly,: _the first and strongest of the male voice's jeered._ : Never bond, never mate. Albino, weak. Not see second year. :_

_: Weak, never fly,: _the other two voices jeered in an idiotic echo.

Defiance laced the mental voice of the first bondbird. _: Can too fly! : _The little bird all but shouted.

Conrart braced himself as his vision swam and his foresight washed over him.

_~ A small body covered in white fuzzy down feathers fell to the ground, where it lay broken against a rock at the base of a tree ~_

Conrart winced and started desperately trying to figure out exactly where the little voices were coming from. This wasn't going to end well.

The strongest of the voices, the male, echoed in his mental ear. _: Prove it,: _the little bird replied simply.

_: Prove : _the other two mimicked.

The first voice radiated defiance and a deep need to prove itself that was all too familiar as it replied with a single word. _: Fine.:_

A small white form, hardly larger then a baseball, plummeted from the canopy above; its small, scarcely feathered, white wings flapping desperately at the empty air. Without the aid of flight feathers, the little bird was doomed to its fate. The little thing called in terror as it realized its folly, frantically trying to catch the wind with wings covered in useless, short, and fluffy down.

Conrart reacted out of instinct. Cupping his hands as if to cradle the small chick, he reached out with his fetching gift and the little bird landed safely in his hands. He looked down at the small creature, and found himself gazing into a pair of enormous yellow eyes. An owl, he realized absently. Smiling lightly, he carefully stroked the little bird's head.

"Hello, little one." He cooed softly in his native tongue, the tone coming naturally to him, even as he backed his every word with Mindspeech and a soft flow of images. "You gave me quite a scare, you did." Unconsciously he began to gently scratch the small bird's head. "I'm afraid you're not old enough to fly yet, you need flight feathers, little one."

He staggered as something large landed on his shoulder. Sharp talons dug in as the owl attempted to steady itself. Once it was settled, its talons withdrew until the sharp tips just brushed his skin. He ignored the pain in favor of talking to the small chick in his hands. "You'll fly one day little one, and I'm sure you will own the sky, but that day has not yet come. Be safe little one, and dream of the open skies until then."

He turned his head slightly to look at the enormous owl perched on his shoulder, and recognized Riversong's bondbird. Conrart scrutinized the owl for a moment; it was the same size as an Eagle-owl, although he recognized the breed as a species of Hawk-owl called an Australian Boobook in Yuri's world, and a Mopoke, named for its call in Shin Makoku. In his world and Yuri's the owl was tiny, only about 10.5 inches with a wingspan of 25-33 inches for the female; the males were smaller. But this owl was at least 29 inches with a wingspan that he would guess to be about 5-6 feet. In addition to that the Mopoke was only supposed to weigh about 6-12 ounces; this bird weighed at least 90. This wasn't surprising, since bondbirds were several times larger than their normal counterparts.

"I'm guessing this little one is yours," he told the bird kindly, ignoring the blood running down his shoulder that stained his whites.

Cay gave him a grave look and then proceeded to hoot angrily at his errant offspring. After a moment, he launched himself off of Conrart's shoulder; carefully snagged the owlet that rested in the man's cupped hands, and disappeared into the trees with a few delicate well placed flaps.

Conrart smiled, seeing what the young bondbird would one day become. The little one had great spirit, and he knew that it would serve the little bird well in the years to come. She was sure to prosper in whatever path she chose. He knew she would grow up to be proud and strong. She wasn't an Albino; he knew little of owls, but he knew that much. Albinos had red eyes, and the little owlet's were a sharp piercing yellow. One day she would be a fine asset to any Tayledras who was lucky enough to bond with her.

_: Ara.: _ The little owl said clearly into his mind. _: I is Ara. : _

_: Am,: _he corrected absently, completely unfazed by the fact that he was correcting a bird's speech.

Ara sent him a questioning feeling. _:Am?: _she asked.

Conrart smiled _: It's 'I am Ara' not 'I is Ara.'.:_

_:Oh… I sorry,: _Ara said quietly.

_: Don't be, Ara. It is nice to meet you, little one. I am Conrart. :_

Conrart blinked at the contented feeling that flowed to him from the little bird. It was distinctly odd; normally he didn't get emotions from anyone but Yozak and Vanyel. It was true sometimes he got emotions from others but only when he was in close proximity to Yozak. _: Conrar, : _Ara chirped quietly into his mind, before correcting herself as no other bird he'd ever met had. _:Conrar, Conrarrt, Conrart… Conrart. : _The satisfaction rolling off the little bird was immense. _: One day, I fly for you. : _

Conrart blinked, not understanding the determination in the little bird's mental voice. Nor did he understand why Cay immediately admonished her that she was too young to say such things. Although the immediate reply of _: Am not.: _amused him to no end.

_: Good day and may you know only gentle winds, little one. : _He replied simply, turning to leave.

Only to find himself face to face with Holly, Riversong, Firesong, and Silverfox. He blinked again, wondering when in the hell they'd gotten there. He was slipping, and that wasn't good. _Never let your guard down,_ he reminded himself irritably. _Or do you want a repeat of the incident with Gwilherm? _

_He was staggering, broken, battered and bloody through the streets of the capital city, trying to find a healer who would lower themselves enough to waste their services on a half-breed__. _

_:CHOSEN!: _Vanyel's voice pulled him forcibly out of the memory.

He didn't know when the stallion had come up beside him, but he was definitely glad for his Companion's presence. Closing his eyes, he leaned against Vanyel's strong shoulder, fighting the almost violent need to retch, his body shaking in remembered pain and terror. Vanyel brought his head around, pulling him closer in the equine equivalent of a warm hug.

Conrart melted into his Companion, feeling safe and warm against his side. They stayed like that for a second before they both pulled away. Sometime during his very short lived little trip down memory lane, Cay had landed on his bondmate's shoulder. The great owl simply stood there watching him, with a long slightly curved, rounded wing feather, three small marbled body feathers, and a few bits of white and silver down clasped lightly in his beak.

Riversong reached up and stroked the owl's breast before holding out his hand to receive the feathers Cay was holding. The bird dropped them into his hand, hooting encouragingly. The man nodded, shifted the feathers around so that he could clasp them all delicately between his thumb and forefinger without damaging them. It had the unintended effect of hiding the three smaller feathers and the down behind the larger wing feather. With a sigh, Riversong stepped forward and offered them to Conrart.

Alarmed, Conrart took a step back.

For one long minute Riversong simply stared at him, a perplexed expression on his face. Abruptly he laughed a deep throaty sound that rang in the still air between them. "This bears no meaning beyond that of thanks. This is Cay's thank you for the life of his little one. He is indebted to you, and says that should Ara still wish it when she is older he will abide by her choice."

Conrart blinked, not understanding what he meant by Ara's choice. He didn't know what to do, in some ways it was a gesture of thanks on Cay's part, but the cultural meaning behind the feather alarmed him. Still he didn't want to insult the Owl. Vanyel solved his problem for him. Sticking his nose into the small of his back the stallion shoved him forward. He stumbled, caught himself, took a deep breath and reminded himself that Riversong was not Gwilherm. Then he reached out and took the feathers from Riversong.

"You are quite welcome Cay; wind to your wings."

~~~***~~~

Firesong cocked his head to the side as he watched his little brother. He was well aware of the fact that Conrart was lifebonded – there was no denying it after the show the man had put on his first day with the clan. Silverfox had also seen to inform him that the boy was apparently refusing to acknowledge the existence of the lifebond. While that posed several problems, and tended to have strange side effects for the ones lifebonded, it didn't explain how Conrart reacted to people propositioning him for a night or an hour of pleasure.

It also didn't explain the way he reacted when Forestblade had grabbed his hips the other day. Granted, Forestblade was a fool who thought grabbing hold of his potential partner and grinding into them as he presented them with a flower was permissible. He'd been slapped from the vale all the way to Rethwellen for it, but it hadn't made an impression on him. Conrart however had made a very big impression on him… or rather of him in a tree 100 yards away.

The kid had one mean fetching gift.

He couldn't help but smile when Vanyel shoved the boy closer to Riversong. The idea came to him as he watched Conrart accept what looked like a single owl wing feather from the other man. It was the perfect way to make most people leave the boy alone, and since he was lifebonded it wouldn't even be much of a lie.

He took a step forward and stretched out a hand to Conrart. "Here, give them to me, little brother. I'll take them to the Hertasi, and ask them to make a nice hair ornament out of them for you." He didn't even have the time to tuck the feathers carefully away before a Hertasi he didn't recognize popped up at his elbow and disappeared again with the little bundle of feathers, tsking over Conrart's unadorned whites the entire time.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his little brother. "When you get the hair ornament back, wear it. It will look like you are in a serious relationship and deter most people from propositioning you."

"Um… thanks." Conrart replied.

~~~***~~~

Riversong watched Holly's internee with mild interest, wondering just why sexual advances from either gender made him nervous. Truthfully he was curious as to exactly what the young man would sound like with that melodic tenor voice, raised in incoherent cries of ecstasy. What would he look like with that lithe body covered in the sweat of passion? But alas he'd seen just how badly the boy had reacted to being propositioned. After all, he had been present for the fiasco with that idiot Forestblade. He was also there when the young man had very gently turned down Firesong's young cousin Honeyfeather. The girl was an adult but it was quite clear – at least to Riversong - that she was still a child in Conrart's eyes. The boy seemed perfectly fine with how free and open their culture was about sex and sexuality - just so long as it didn't involve him.

He sighed, trying not to imagine that beautiful body sprawled spent beneath him. He closed his eyes briefly in an attempt to dislodge the thought from his mind and then noticed the spreading crimson stain on the shoulder of Conrart's Whites.

"You're bleeding," he told the man mildly.

Conrart shrugged his shoulders. "Shouga nai" he said simply.

~~~***~~~

Holly blinked when she heard that word come out of Conrart's mouth. There were certain words that she'd heard the young man mumble that she simply dismissed as her ears playing tricks on her. However there was no denying the fact that Conrart had just said 'Shouga nai' and said it very clearly. Shouga nai was a word in Mazoku-jin, which had no real equivalent word in the Valdemaran tongue. However, it roughly translated to 'what can you do?', 'nothing can be done', 'oh well', 'don't make such a big deal out of it' or 'deal with it'. It had a lot of possible translations, which were dependent on the inflection behind it. There was no way Conrart could have known it. Very few people in Valdemar knew even a few words of the tongue unless they were one of the four people who were part of Valdemar's original delegation to Shin Makoku. Well them and the two new trainees from Shin Makoku, but judging by how well the two were reported to have adapted they couldn't be very old.

She'd been one of the lucky four who'd been given the truly complicated language; she smiled at the memory of going to that strange new world in the company of Herald mage Elspeth, Adept Darkwind, and their small daughter. She then straightened up, shaking away the shock of having heard that complicated tongue fall from Conrart's lips.

She looked at the young man strangely. "What did you just say?" she asked after a second.

Conrart blinked. "Shouga nai." He replied simply. "Oh, sorry, it means -"

Holly cut him off, exasperated. "I know what it means," she said curtly. "What I want to know is how you know it?"

"It's my native tongue," he replied.

Holly stared at him for a moment before she found her tongue. "You're Mazoku?" she finally asked.

He smiled at her. "The last time I checked."

~~~***~~~

**Author's Note:**

**Werewolf:** Hi, sorry it took so long for us to update this. My partners in crime and I have finally managed to be in the same room for a day, so here's a chapter for all you rabid readers. This marks the halfway point in our extended hiatus. I will update as soon as I can.

**Pirate:** It's also been taking me forever and a day to beta read, so thank you all for managing to hold out this long. Quite honestly, if I had to wait this long for a bottle of rum, I'd go stark raving mad. Not that I haven't been accused of being so already . . .

**Werecat:** … I had something witty to say but then it went bye-bye.

**Werewolf: **Bye-bye? What are you two? And I blame the royally depressing movie you made us all watch. Ugh! I no longer have the higher cognitive function to even spell small words. You have damned me to my native odious vocabulary! UGH!!!!!!

I NEED SOME SAKE!

**Werecat: **HEY, it's not my fault, I blame the Fruit Drops!

**Pirate:** That movie was seriously depressing . . . and now for something completely different! Banana phone! Doo doo doo doo! (No, I'm not on crack – it's crystal meth. There's a difference.)

**Werewolf:** Or would that be lower cognitive function?

Never mind…. Ohhh sausage!

**Werecat:** … OK… This is what we get when the puppy is kept away from the forest for extended periods of time… utter lunacy!

**Werewolf:** _**I AM NOT A PUPPY DAMN IT!!!!!! I AM A WEREWOLF! HOMO LUPIS!!!!! GET IT RIGHT OR I'LL –I'll … **__Hang you upside down by your tail out of the crow's nest… or something. Here stupid kitty kitty!_

**Werecat:** Oooo I'm so scared.

**Pirate:** Here we go again . . . Anyhoo! This author's note was brought to you by the letter W and the number 42 . . . that's how many shots of whiskey I'm going to need when this is all over . . .

**Werecat:** SHIT THAT'S A LOT OF WHISKEY_**!!!**_

**Werewolf:** _INTERVENTION!!!!! QUICK, WHERE'S THE NEAREST AA MEETING?!!!!_

**Pirate:** AA meetings are for quitters. I'm no quitter.

**Werewolf:** (face-palm)… sigh… where the hell did I put that jug of sake?!

**Pirate:** Umm … I drank it.

**Werecat:** That's it—I'm hiding the whiskey and the other jug of sake with the rum… and for that matter anything else even remotely alcoholic, including the COUGH SYRUP!

**Werewolf:** Hay! I hardly ever drink and I have never once been inebriated!!!! Why, (deep breath) would you care to elaborate on your reasons for hiding my sake?

**Werecat:** Easy—the captain can get it from you. I'm not as obliging.

**Werewolf:** Okay… so maybe under my bed is not the best hiding spot… I can't help it, I am a wolf. It's the safest place there is.

**Pirate:** No one will be safe if I don't get my rum in the next five minutes.

**Werewolf:** Here, have some coffee.

**Pirate:** XD Yay! Just as good!. (slurp slurp) See you all next time!!!


	32. Change Children

Chapter 32: Change Children

Yozak let out a deep sigh—of course, because these things just _couldn't_ happen to anyone else! He had no problem with change-children normally, but this… this was pushing it. They were currently in the tiny village of Deercreek, a little village that happened to have recently gained a change-child resident. It was a young woman who had learned to use her body and gifts to get exactly what she wanted. Her changes were subtle and likely only just noticeable to human eyes. For instance, her eerily green eyes only bore a slit about as prominent as the one's in Conrart's eyes. Slightly pointed ear tips stuck up from under a mane of wild platinum hair, and her soft skin bore the barest traces of a scale pattern.

According to the village women, she could get her way with any man that came through the village, from the traveling traders to the village mayor himself. Apparently the men never remembered giving into her demands, and the women reported a strangely musky scent accompanying the moments when she got her way.

She managed to sway Koren within just a few moments in his presence and a few subtle swishes of her hips. Yozak felt his blood raising at the way her modest clothing clung to her ample curves, and her bodice and shirt rose up slightly under the hand at her hip to give him a clear view of her navel. His whites were beginning to feel tight, and while the human half of his very being wanted nothing more than to do anything she wanted just so he could have the chance to use her to sate the burning in his loins, the demon in his blood saw no reason to even look at this inferior creature for pleasure, not while he still had two hands and the chance –however slim – of making Conrart his.

Images of the hypnotic little serpent change-child writhing beneath him gave way to truly erotic images that quickly drowned out any thoughts of her as images of Conrart flushed with pleasure and calling his name easily replaced them. That image did what her lithe body with its dripping sex appeal couldn't-

-- it got him painfully hard.

But it had an unexpected side effect—it did what even Jissa's frantic voice in his mind had been unable to do. It forced the two sides of his nature to come to a swift and sudden agreement.

She wasn't Conrart and thus not even remotely interesting!

He shook his head and clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, trying to force away the images the musk in the air was calling into his mind; carnal images which both disgusted and aroused him. Annoyed with the heady aroma, he used the wind to create a buffer between him and the hypnotic serpent given human form. It rather effectively blocked the thick scent she was producing. It also gave him an idea. Using his own gifts, he pulled the air currents away from Koren so that the man now stood upwind of her.

Koren blinked, shook his head and proceeded to have a sneezing fit. Yozak smiled, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow at the woman, noting as he did so that the slits of her eyes became far more prominent then even a full demon's as fear and rage rolled off her in heavy waves. She hissed at him angrily, the air rushing past her long needle sharp fangs as her long forked tongue flicked out of her mouth, tasting the air.

"I don't know how you did that, white coat, but it won't stop me." She hissed, stooping down to grab the two full baskets at her feet she bolted off into a dead winter corn field.

Swearing sharply in his native tongue, Yozak swung back into Jissa's saddle and together they gave chase. The woman was fast, and like a snake she wove expertly through the tall stalks. Somehow despite her strange hair color, she was very hard to see and keep track of. Only years of practice in the subtle art of espionage allowed him to trail her. In some ways, it was like hunting himself through the tall grass.

Finally, when they were close enough, he flung himself out of the saddle at her in a hair brained attempt to tackling her. His momentum carried them both to the ground as he wrapped himself almost protectively around her, and rolled them both to kill the remainder of the potentially lethal momentum. Swearing in a most unladylike fashion, she bit into his forearm, tearing open skin and muscle.

He howled in pain and cursed the woman in his own language, but otherwise he held still and waited for her to remove her long fangs from his arm – anything else would cause too much damage both to his arm and to her teeth.

After a moment she pulled back and came at him again for another strike, but he'd anticipated a second attack and moved his arm out of her range. It took a bit of work but he managed to pin her to the floor while she writhed beneath him very much like an infuriated snake. He held the cursing woman down while Jissa nosed through her baskets and he viewed its contents through her eyes. What was stolen from the villagers both surprised and confused him. It would appear that this woman was a bundle of contradictions.

Some things were new but most were old, worn, and in some cases in need of some repair. There were two blankets – a newly finished quilt, and one so old it was impossible to tell what color it had originally been, but it was well patched, made of good wool, and still serviceable. A few small bags of rice, flour and corn, some dried meat, three, small, day old loaves of stale bread, a broken figurine of a blue-eyed white horse and a white clad rider, a torn rag doll, a paper balloon, a new, blue dyed leather ball, and assorted dried and fresh vegetables completed the contents of her pilfered goods.

"What the hell?" he shifted his weight slightly as the woman attempted to escape again. The strong scent of her musk was starting to fill the air, so he snorted in an attempt to rid his nostrils of her rich scent. "That's not going to work on me, so I suggest you start talking."

She muttered something about 'Change-children and the Shay' before launching into her tale.

~~~***~~~

Yozak stood there quietly gaping at the little hovel that stood approximately four hours away from Deercreek village and at least six hours from any other village or city nearby. Four children under the age of 13 grabbed a hold of some smaller children and bolted into the little hut at the sight of him. Three undoubtedly stolen chickens pecked the nearly frozen ground within reach of the large peg of wood that they'd been tied to, and a dilapidated old well stood off to one side, with the central beam barely holding up the battered, leaking bucket suspended from it.

He swore and shook off memories of his own childhood before he'd been rescued by Conrart and his father – this wasn't the time or place for reminiscing. Winter came early and hard to this part of Valdemar, and it was a wonder that this woman and the orphans she was doing her best to support had survived here for the better part of the past four months. It was currently the last week of November, and they had less than seven days before the first heavy snow fell. There had already been some snow in these parts, but it was light in comparison of what was to come.

"Children," Servana called quietly. "Come and greet our guest."

Twelve under-fed children came out of the useless little hovel, and he felt his heart break for each and every one of them. It was obvious Servana needed help. She was only one woman – and just barely at that. She was only 17, and very lovely; she should have been looking forward to her life. She was supposed to be gossiping with friends and dealing with suitors, not taking care of 12 children, some of which were less than five years her junior. Yet she was – and had been for the past five years.

He closed his eyes briefly as the children inspected him, wondering at first why these children were even in her care and not in a proper orphanage – but now he knew. In some the changes were as subtle as Servana's, but in the others the changes were as prominent as Healer Elizabeth's. He knelt down as a small child no older than two made his way over to him. The others hung back, obviously wary. The small boy tugged at a hand full of Yozak's fox- red hair as he scooped him up into his arms.

"You wike us," the little boy gaped, looking him in the eye and shivering as the cold air cut through the nearly useless rags he was wearing.

Instinctively, Yozak placed the small child on his hip and wrapped his cloak around him for warmth. Gazing down into eyes that were quite unexpectedly the same color as his own, he smiled and gently ruffled the child's metallic blue hair. Sorrow gripped his heart as he could only nod in reply.

"You hewp Naga?" the little boy asked.

Yozak turned his head and looked at Servana. "Who is Naga?" he asked calmly.

The girl bristled. "Nagashin," the name came out as a long fluid hiss as her forked tongue whipped out between her teeth, "is my mate."

"I will do my best for him," Yozak stated sincerely as he carefully handed her the child and his cloak. This time she didn't return it. At least she would see to the child's needs if not her own. "When was the last time any of these kids ate?"

Servana sighed. "Last night," she replied after a second. "Normally Syeth, Serren, and Dessshia help me to gather food to keep the little ones alive. Nagashin normally watches the little ones with Sydren's help. Syeth caught a rabbit last night and gave it to the little ones. It wasn't much but at least they had something in their bellies."

Again Yozak felt his heart breaking for the children in front of him. He knew what it felt like to be constantly hungry and cold. Before Conrart's father had come into his life with Conrad riding on a pony behind him like prince from a fairytale _HE _hadgone to bed hungry and cold most nights, curling up against his mother for warmth with only her tattered shawl to keep him from freezing to death.

After she died …

He blinked, and fought back the unexpected pain that accompanied thoughts of his mother. She died young, her life stolen by prejudice and hatred. But at least she had died for him, and lived every day for him, giving her only son the very best she could despite the painful hand they'd been dealt. If she despaired after their future, or worried over the man she knew he would grow to be in her absence, then she'd hidden it well.

He forced himself away from his memories and back to the present. He had a job to do now, just as Lord Dan Hiri Weller had a job to do when he'd rescued him from that _FUCKING VILLAGE_, and he sure as hell wasn't going to dishonor his mother's memory or Conrad's father's legacy by failing these children now!

He was not going to let nostalgia get in the way of his duty to these people.

Jissa wrapped him in a protective blanket of love and comfort even as he dug through his saddle bags after the emergency rations he had stored there. For a moment he rested his head against Jissa, drawing strength from the familiar warmth of his Companion. After a second he turned and handed the small bag of supplies to one of the older children; a young girl – Deshia, if he had to guess based on their names alone.

"Are You Deshia?" he asked as he handed her the bag.

The child shook her head. "No sir, I'm Serren. That's Deshia," she replied, indicating a scrawny, silver haired boy.

He blinked. "My apologies, Youngling. Serren, can you cook?"

The little girl nodded, with her long black braids bobbing in time with her enthusiastic nods. The child's brown eyes were haunted, and her face too thin – but he could see the spark of life inside her. She was a fighter then – someone who would fight for herself and her family. She was likely only eleven, and given her spirit he wondered if he'd ever see her in the company of a blue eyed white horse.

_: Perhaps one day soon, but not today Chosen. : _Jissa told him quietly. _:For now our job is to keep them all alive long enough for that to even become a dream they might entertain.: _

Thus recalled to duty he smiled down at the child in front of him - and got the shock of his life when a pair of soft, fuzzy, puppy ears popped up out of her hair and honed in on him. "All right, little one, there's dried food in there that should make a nice stew for you and your family," he said gently, firmly stepping on the urge to inquire after what she'd been changed with.

_: A dog, I'm guessing… if the tail is any indication. : _Jissa said brightly into his mind.

_Tail? _Yozak wondered briefly before noting the softly twitching appendage as the child walked away.

_:Well, aren't we the observant one. Tell me, what was it your best friend's brother employed you for again?: _Jissa inquired in a mocking tone.

Yozak ignored her. Honestly he was also surprised that he'd missed the fluffy appendage, but he wasn't going to let Jissa know that. He turned his attention back to the children in front of him. "Which one of you is the better hunter?" he asked.

"I am," the boy who answered was tall and lanky, with hard green eyes, but thankfully they weren't dull or cold. His brown hair was cut to his shoulders – but for his slit pupils you wouldn't have known he was a change child.

Then came the smile that showed a glint of sharp, backward-curving fangs.

"And whom might you be?"

The boy simply replied, "By process of elimination I would have expected you to know that, King's man." Deshia smacked the back of his head roughly and ordered him to 'mind his manners' before turning to Yozak and informing him, "this young idiot is Sydren."

"Thank you, Deshia," Yozak smiled, trying not to chuckle at the annoyed young man's expression. "Sydren, would you be kind enough to track down some meat for your friend to put in the stew? Anything will work, it doesn't matter how small – even a squirrel will do."

The boy mock saluted and darted off into the underbrush. Yozak shook his head and turned back to Jissa, liberating his medical supplies from one saddle bag before turning his attention back to Deshia. "I need you to take me to see Naga, and then I want you and Syeth to split up. I want one of you to take the younger children out foraging for berries and other edible plants and roots, and the other to take the slightly older children to gather wood. Everything from sticks to small logs –My Jissa bespoke Herald Koran's Mandy and the two of them are on their way with help. Do you understand?"

Deshia nodded and led him into the dilapidated building. As they walked inside, Yozak inquired after the names of the other eight children, listening quietly as his guide prattled on. "Zerrik is the boy with the green hair; we think he was changed with some kind of lizard. Serrik is his little brother with the cinnamon colored hair and the whiskers – he's a rat. Sinistera is the multi colored one – we picked her up in Rothwellen five years ago – we have no idea what she is, but she is definitely colorful. Oh and don't piss her off – her hair catches on fire. Seleth is some kind of bird – he's about eight years old now. Gafry is five – we picked him up in Oris a few years ago. I don't know what he is – if you scare him he rolls up into a ball – and it even has armor! Sellia I think is a cat – but I wouldn't know. She sure walks quietly for a four year old though. Solan is the one with the blond hair and he's ten. If you didn't notice his pupils, you wouldn't even know he was one of us. Saori's the little boy with blue hair you picked up; he's two. We only picked him up about five months ago." The boy shook his head and then added, "He was being put on display by a traveling merchant – they were planning on selling him."

Yozak was completely disgusted – how could anyone sell a _child_?

~~~***~~~

Naga glanced up when Deshia came into the small corner of the room that he'd been put in. It was a small space underneath a rickety old staircase. It was also dark except for the small candle he had burning on a small ledge. The tiny area was hardly big enough for him and his mate to stretch out in, but it was a good place for a snake to live. It was warm, slightly humid, and its hard packed dirt floor gave it the same homey feeling as the numerous caves, abandoned dens, and enlarged burrows that he'd lived in since being abandoned after getting stuck in one of the first change-circles nearly 14 years ago. He'd been a little boy at the time, and a snake charmer associated with a group of traveling performers. The magic of the mage storms had permanently merged him with the king cobra that he'd been charming – and while his family had at first been delighted by the money they could bring in by putting him on display, they grew intolerant of him six months later when he refused to allow himself to be treated like a freak.

Then he met the girl who would later be his mate.

They had both picked up Deshia a few years later, and in some ways the young boy was more like a sibling than a child. Together they had traveled the known world picking up more and more abandoned change-children and managed to scratch out a life for themselves, never staying in one place for more than a week. But this was their first time in Valdemar; five months ago they were in a small village just outside of Valdemar's northern border heading south before winter set in, hoping to buy or steal enough supplies to get them as far as Waymeet without having to go through the forest with the 'killing trees'. They'd been planning to trade some of the beautiful multi colored feathers that grew under Sinistera's hair to get the things they needed. However, when Solan had reported the fact that the villagers were keeping a small blue haired child in a cage hardly big enough for him to stand up in and putting him on display with the intention of selling him to the highest bidder, Naga had ordered Servana to take the children and head south. He would meet them at Crook Back Pass with their new charge.

Servana had taken the children and stolen what they could before leaving. Their last hit had been loud and public – a diversion to cover the theft that Naga was about to pull off. He found the child right where Solan had reported him to be, shivering inside a cold, iron cage tied to the back of a wagon.

He'd seen the magic on the cage, and knew very well that he would suffer for liberating the child, but he didn't care—this little boy was the only thing that mattered.

They were able to travel for about another two months before the sickness had become too much for him. The hovel that his family was currently huddling in trying to survive was all that they could find. Despite Naga's pleading, they wouldn't leave him behind to find a warmer area. The truly heavy snows would be here within the week—he could feel it in his bones. His family would be in serious trouble if they didn't move or find some other way to insulate their little shack, especially little Saori who was a snake just like him and his wife. It was all his fault; if only he'd been strong enough to keep going despite the illness. If only he'd been able to make it past the comb and into Rethwellan; then they could have found somewhere warmer. If only he'd kept going – they wouldn't be in this mess.

His tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting the air, but he was so congested and it hurt so badly just to breathe that he didn't notice the man alongside Deshia until he was kneeling right beside him. Naga tried to protest, but then he noticed the man's fox colored hair and slit pupils, and he suddenly relaxed, realizing that this stranger was one of their own despite the uniform he was wearing.

~~~***~~~

Yozak smiled down at the small child who brought him a dipper full of water. The boy couldn't have been much older than six, and judging from Deshia's descriptions he suspected this to be Serrik. He thanked the child kindly before turning back to the log he was splitting. It was part of an old fallen tree that lay across the back of the property. For now the smaller pieces were going to be used to create a supply of firewood to get the orphans and their two caregivers through the winter. Depending on the amount of help Koren could scrounge up, they would potentially be forced to use the old log to create weather proof walls. It wouldn't be much but they had to get at least one room and a small kitchen set up in the next week or else this ragtag family would freeze to death. It wasn't ideal, but if they could at least accomplish that, then the crown would pay to have a proper orphanage put up in the spring and the children could be properly educated.

Another herald- one of the mage gifted -was currently on his way from the nearest city with a healer in tow. Hopefully Herald mage Quinn would be able to lift the curse that Naga had recently encountered. After that it would be up to the healer to heal the resulting case of pneumonia.

He glanced up at the sound of bridle bells and the distinctive chime of silver hooves on hard packed dirt and rock. Since his own Jissa was currently wearing the abbreviated harness and chains that all Herald's carried with them into the field, and helping the children haul logs, he knew the sound heralded the arrival of Koren and the 'help' he'd managed to procure.

Setting down the small rusted ax, he went to greet the other Herald but was surprised by the fact that every man, woman, and child old enough to be of help currently stood behind the Herald and his Companion. Koren was on foot and standing at Mandy's side. The mare herself was laden with supplies; it looked like everything the village could spare in the way of tools. A boy no older than fourteen held the lead rope attached to an annoyed looking donkey hitched to a cart that was further laden with supplies.

Women looked out at the rundown ramshackle excuse for a hovel before them and tsked in disapproval. Their eyes softened at the sight of three young children returning with their arms laden with firewood – little Saori was with them struggling to keep up, his little arms overly full with small sticks and twigs.

"There is a very sick young man inside and the temperature is going to drop further tonight. Does anyone have a place these children and their caregivers can stay? A barn, or a place by the hearth at the inn? Anything to get these little ones and Naga into shelter would be much appreciated, and we need to do it quickly." Yozak pitched his voice to carry throughout the crowd.

There was a low mumble as the villagers started talking all at once. Finally an old man walked forward, abandoning his former spot on top of the cart. "These younglings – they're all change-children, aren't they Herald?" he inquired mildly. "Seems to me that be the only reason they didn't think to be askin' for 'elp afore now."

Yozak inclined his head at the man's question, and then added, "These people have been through a lot. Not many people understand the magic that changed them, and they've been run out of village after village trying to find a place they can call their own. Are we going to show them that Valdemar is like any other land? That her people are as cold and ruthless as the people who couldn't see past their differences? Or will we show them the kindness Valdemar was founded upon?"

The old man and the rest of the villagers nodded along with his words, and after a moment the old man spoke again. "Seems to me, we s'ould be neig'borly like and 'elp t'em, no matter what they be magiced wit'! My family runs the inn, the stables be well protected against a draft, and t'ere be room enough inside by the fire for this Naga. T'ese people need 'elp wouldn't be rig't nor proper for us to be turning them out 'Erald, Not w'en we 'az children of our own t'at 'ope to be 'eralds t'emselves."

Yozak smiled lightly. "Then let's get that cart unloaded. Naga's too ill to stand on his own, let alone walk. You can put everything inside the – well, what's left of the door at any rate."

They made short work of the supplies and then split everyone up into groups clearing the dead fall and tearing down several small structures (the remnants of a chicken coop) off to the side of the hovel. That took up the majority of what was left of the day, and the coming evening would be devoted to actually moving the children and their two caregivers into the shelter Oscar the old man was willing to provide.

Carefully they arranged a pile of old but serviceable bedding into the back of the cart. When that was done, Yozak turned and disappeared into the small hovel. It was a relatively short walk to the small space under the stairs where Naga made his bed, but it seemed to be endless. He could hear the sharp rasping, rattling sound the young man made as he struggled to breathe.

He wanted nothing more than to take away the poor man's pain. The fact that Naga had known he would likely die thanks to the magic on the cage holding one of his charges, and yet he had freed the child anyway spoke values about the man's character.

It was times like this that made Yozak long to have the healing gift of his people. Now he had his own gifts, but the one part of a Mazoku's magic that was taught to small children was beyond his grasp. The healing gift of this world and that of Maryoku were too dissimilar for the healers at the palace to teach him that one rudimentary skill.

He didn't know whether or not the Valdemaran healing gift could heal illnesses created by magic and curses, but Jissa told him that they could have a mage lift the curse and then have a healer handle the after effects. In Shin Makoku, a seasoned healer could have handled both problems on their own. A Mazoku's Maryoku dealt with the elements in their purest form, which was something humans couldn't even begin to understand or utilize. This was because demons were born as part of the element they used, and when they died their souls continued on as a part of that element. Just as fire could purify or destroy, so could water, earth, and air.

That was a fundamental truth they were all taught as youngsters.

His own inadequacy doomed Naga to further pain until the healer and the mage could reach him. For now all he could do was help Servana and the children, and pray to The Great One that they made it in time to save Naga. At the rate this was progressing he gave the man a week, maybe two at most, before the curse finally killed him.

He was careful as he scooped the other man up into his arms. Yozak was startled by how heavy he was; Naga was shorter and slighter than Conrart, and yet he weighed just a bit more. Blinking in mild surprise, he did his best to ignore the cold kiss of the man's dull, bluish black scales against the skin of his arms where he'd rolled up his sleeves earlier.

He noticed the distinctive U in the scales at the base of the man's neck and suppressed the need to shudder as realization dawned. Nagashin had been a young snake charmer before any of this happened. The snake he'd been working with all those years ago must have been a cobra.

It meant that Naga could probably kill him with a single bite.

Well, at least now he knew that the possibly venomous children running around outside would have been taught not to bite.

But that still didn't offer him much comfort.

~~~***~~~

A.N

Sorry this took so long I have another chapter being edited by the grammar Nazi so hopefully the next one will be faster. Read and review please.


	33. Enter Hōzukimaru the demon light

Herald Yozak awoke as he always did, all at once and without even the slightest hint of the transition between dreams and the real world. He was and always had been a very light sleeper; as such he was truly startled by his visitor. Little Saori slept soundly against his chest. He couldn't help but smile at the cute sight of the small blue haired toddler curled up with his thumb in his mouth. Carefully he extracted himself from between Jissa, whose shoulder he'd been using as a pillow, and the small child. Then he pulled off the cloak he'd been using as a blanket, draped it over the boy, and carefully lifted him up out of the bed of straw before settling him down securely in the newly vacated spot, smiling slightly at the way the child cuddled closer to his Companion's furry form.

Jissa only opened one sleepy blue eye and blinked at him once before curling up more tightly around the small child, and surrendering to sleep again.

He glanced around the stable they'd spent the night in, noting the fact that Koran still slept soundly against Mandy's shoulder. He wasn't surprised; there weren't many people, even among the Heralds, who routinely woke up as early as he did. Even the birds were still asleep – and would be for at least another 2 hours.

Chuckling quietly to himself, he pulled on his boots, straightened out his whites, and left the stables. The first thing he did was find a well, draw himself a bucketful of crystal clear fresh water, and take a few mouthfuls before turning and carrying the bucket back into the stables to rinse out Jissa's bucket. Once that was done he left and got more fresh water to fill it up again. Then he went into the feed shed and procured a small bucketful of mixed oats and barley. Yozak poured half of it into the feed bucket hanging in the stall he and Jissa had claimed as their own. Then he performed the same service for Mandy, being careful not to wake the slumbering Herald at her side.

Finally he headed outside and put himself through a series of light (for him at least) sword drills. Once Yozak had completed that task, he carefully practiced things that came a bit more naturally to him – as a spy he needed to keep his body perfectly conditioned and each movement had to be muscle memory. So just like sword work, he practiced daily despite having more experience then anyone in this world could ever hope to have.

Once he was done with that, he wove his body through the intricate patterns of the Mazoku martial arts. He was about half way through with the easiest techniques when a very soft thud drew his attention. He turned and had to force himself not to smile at the sight he met.

Little Saori sat in a heap on the floor with an annoyed look plastered on his cute little face. Apparently the child had been mimicking him only to fall and land on his rump while attempting the last position Yozak had contorted himself into. That technique wasn't particularly difficult, but it did require one to balance perfectly and lightly on the ball of one foot, providing an easy spot to pivot from. He'd seen Conrart utilize it in full armor, switching into a different technique on the down swing to slice an opponent nearly in half thanks to the added momentum.

In slow motion, the vast majority of Mazoku martial arts looked like a dance, but in combat they were deadly and nearly unstoppable. Conrart was a master and an artist in their employment, but he rarely used them. He once said that they made him too deadly for his taste – Conrad disliked the fact that he was essentially a walking weapon, and one that Stoffel had happily thrown into the front lines, literally weeks after he'd graduated from the academy.

After that, Conrart decided to never reveal the fact that he was a master swordsman to anyone. He'd even gone so far as lying to Alberich about his skill level in hand to hand combat. Once or twice, he even allowed Kerowyn to mop the floor with him.

That only lasted until Vanyel started complaining about Conrad 'holding back' to Sayvil. The Companion almost immediately relayed that bit of information to Herald Kerowyn, who then proceeded to give Conrart a scathing lecture worthy of Gwendal.

It had been downright hilarious to watch!

From the roof at least, where he wouldn't be noticed.

Still smiling, Yozak shook the thoughts of his beloved best friend out of his mind and turned his attention to the child pouting a few feet away from him. He carefully picked up the small boy who looked at him with a sad, almost sulking expression, and tussled his hair before carefully showing him the technique again. He went through every one of the simple techniques with the child, mildly amused by the way Saori mimicked his every move.

Finally, the village was awake. Men and women came from every direction with piles of tools and supplies on donkey and pony drawn carts and in hand. Kneeling down beside the small child, he carefully told Saori that he needed him to stay in the village and mind the older kids. The boy was far from happy but Yozak quickly explained that they needed to get that building up, and they needed to do it quickly. Frost was already on the ground, and in little more than a week's time the first of the true snows would fall.

~~~***~~~

Herald Holly yawned as she rejoined the land of the living, sighing she stretched out in the tumble of pillows and comforters she was using as a bed. Now fully awake, she looked around for her relatively Young internee. Conrart was a member of the Mazoku, which meant that she had no idea how old he actually was, although if she had to hazard a guess she'd say he was likely around 50 years old. He couldn't be much older than that; after all, he only looked to be physically 19, and the current king of the Mazoku only looked to be around 16 when he was about 22. Therefore, her internee couldn't be much older than 50 years of age, but that was still very old – at least to her.

She sighed when she couldn't find him. It sadly wasn't an unusual occurrence since Conrad was an early riser. He actually woke up at an hour that even a Herald would consider unholy! She glanced out the Ekel window, which confirmed her suspicion that the sun was only just rising. That meant that Conrad was likely just finishing up his morning routine of sword-drills, stretches, and an odd two hours worth of a strange but eloquent dance. She asked Conrart about it once, but the boy only told her that it was a form of Martial arts that was actually quite deadly. She didn't believe him.

Now she wasn't so sure.

He meditated and went for a jog every morning before vanishing for a Candle-mark only to return bathed, brushed, pressed and perfectly manicured. She'd seen him pull all that off in five minutes, so she couldn't help but wonder just what he did for the rest of the candle-mark.

No sooner had she thought it, than she found the answer to her silent question, in the form of a smudge of white up in the high branches of the tree that housed their Ekel. At first she thought it was nothing more than a bond-bird stirring, but then she realized that the thing was too big to be a bird, even a bond-bird. The Herald carefully extended her other senses, and discovered much to her dismay that it was indeed Conrart. What the hell was he doing that high up in the mammoth tree? Holly groaned in mild annoyance before climbing out the window and carefully making her way up to meet him.

Honestly, with the boy's unholy obsession with all things high he could have been a Taylderas. Like all the others, he was just as comfortable in the boughs of a tree as he was on the ground. It was damn alarming!

~~~***~~~

Conrart noted Holly's somewhat clumsy approach, but quickly wrote her off as being less than a threat; she'd probably fall off the branch if he so much as sneezed. Keeping an eye on her in case she did fall, he continued to play. It was an old song he remembered his father singing every night when they'd been on the road; it didn't have any music to it then, and his father had informed him that it never had. The song was actually written by his great Grandmother who had no musical talent beyond a beautiful voice and a gift for words. After his father died, Conrart spent the better part of a year writing the music to go along with it. Somehow, it had made him feel closer to the human half of his family, which was something he desperately needed at the time.

It was a complicated piece, but one he was very proud of; the melody alone was enough to remind him of the good times in his life, like the days spent in the saddle following his father around the world. He continued to make it look as though he was oblivious to her presence until he finished the song, remaining still and silent for a moment as the last notes lingered in the air.

"I didn't know you could play like that," Holly said as the last note faded.

Conrart arched a cinnamon colored brow, and set about cleaning and disassembling his flute. "There is a lot you don't know about me," he replied mildly, doing his best not to laugh at her expression. If she only knew who he'd once been, she'd likely faint.

_: That's the first time you've thought of who you where before you become a Herald as if it were a thing of the past and not something you were simply taking a break from. :_ Vanyel told him gently. _: Has my Chosen perhaps finally fully accepted the fact that he is now and forever a Herald?:_

Conrart couldn't help but laugh aloud at Vanyel's playful tone. The stallion definitely had a point, especially since the brunette had had a very hard time adjusting to this abrupt change in his life. But he liked to think he was as much of a Herald as any other. _: I love being a Herald. It's who I am and as much a part of me as you are, peacock. But I am still a noble and a demon. Even if those two things alone no longer define me, they are still there and always will be.:_

_:You'll do, Chosen, you'll do. : Vanyel replied, his voice laced with humor and approval._

"I suppose I haven't made much of an effort to get to know you since this internship started. Forgive me; I plan to rectify that," Holly informed him with a smile. His conversation with Vanyel hadn't lasted for more than a few seconds; in fact, if Holly weren't a Herald he doubted she would have even noticed.

Conrart offered her a small smile and tenderly slipped the pieces of his flute into its padded leather case. "It's all right; I'm used to being judged based on what I am rather than who I am, that's what happens when you're only half Mazoku. So, what would you like to know?" 

Holly blinked and then returned a smile to the young man seated before her. "Let's start with how old you are. Since you just said you're only half Mazoku, I'm going to guess you still age slower than humans but faster than other Mazoku. Based on that, I'd say you're 50 at most."

"If I was 50, I'd sill sound like I swallowed a whistle," Conrart replied with amusement. "And only being half Mazoku doesn't affect how I age," he added lightly.

Holly sighed. "Then just how old are you?" she asked after taking a moment to wrap her mind around the fact that her student was older than 50.

Conrart offered her a small smile. "I will have my 138th birthday come next Beltane," he answered simply.

"You're 137 years old?!" Holly said with an undignified yelp.

Conrart couldn't help but nearly fall out of the tree laughing. "Yes, I am."

"B-But, but, but!"

"I believe you've said that already," the boy commented with a chuckle.

Holly gaped at him like a landed fish. "But you look like you're not even 20 yet!"

Conrart continued smiling. "Actually, I'm about the human equivalent of 19. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Holly laughed. "What exactly was that instrument you were playing?"

"It's a Mazoku-Double-Piped flute; old even by our standards and very hard to play. Legend has it that the last person to truly master it was Daikenjia, the advisor of the Great One himself. When I was little, I traveled with my human father a lot, both in Shin Makoku and across human territories. He was hired as a guard for a band of traveling performers, and one of them taught me how to play the flute. Later I begged my father to get me this flute. I thought that if I mastered it, people would forget the fact that I was only a half-breed." He shrugged one shoulder in a manner reminiscent of Yozak. "They never did forget, and it wasn't until after Yuri became our King and The Great Sage returned to Shin Makoku that I truly Mastered it with his help. I'm one of only four people ever to have mastered a Mazoku-double piped flute."

Holly merely stared in amazement.

~~~***~~~

Yozak smiled at the sight of little Saori shadowing his every move whenever he was in the village. The boy had taken to collecting twigs and small sticks while the adults and older children collected fire-wood that both the villagers and orphanage could use throughout the coming winter. It was a truly cute sight. He settled his own pile of wood down and waited quietly for the yawning toddler to leave his small bundle of twigs alongside the pile. It was definitely past the youngling's bedtime. He scooped the small child up into his arms and cuddled him quietly to his chest, sheltering him from the wind as he made his way back to the inn. Once inside, he carefully liberated two bowls of thick fish stew and a loaf of bread before making his way out into the stable.

Settling himself down into the clean straw, with his back resting against Jissa's furry warmth, he set his own bowl aside and set about feeding the small child in his arms. Once the boy had eaten his fill, Yozak then turned to satisfying his own hunger. After he was done, he settled the now sleeping child down against Jissa's flank and left him there while he went over to the village elder's house to convene with the rest of the adults who were in charge of readying the little orphanage for habitation.

He paused briefly before knocking on the old wooden door, feeling the now very familiar sensation of Jissa tapping into his senses. The sensation had taken an extremely long time to grow comfortable with, more time than the sensation of women's clothing ever had. However, like all Heralds, he'd grown accustomed to Jissa's senses brushing against his own.

He nodded to Jered who was the head of the village, as the man let him into the house, and noted Koran's slightly unfocused look as he entered the living room; there was no doubt that Mandy was viewing this little meeting through the same means as Jissa. At least they would still have the advice of their Companions, even if their respective 'lovely ladies' were currently babysitting a plethora of change-children.

~~~***~~~

Conrart smiled and clapped his hands politely as Firesong finished his rendition of 'The Dance of the Flames'. In accordance with the man's somewhat ostentatious personality, the dance itself was by far the most flamboyant rendition he'd seen to date. It had started out slow, with mostly simple footwork and small, precise arm movements. From there however, the dance had deviated from tradition. Firesong's Aya, who'd been seated quietly on his shoulder, joined in the dance by lifting her wings and showering him in false sparks. As the footwork and sinuous body movements sped up, Firesong added his own magic to the show with red, gold and orange lights that encircled his body, coiling around both him and his still sparking bond-bird until they both looked like fire given flesh.

"Who's next?" Silverfox asked as he glanced around the small clearing they were all currently gathered in under the shelter of a tall old tree.

Firesong smiled as he sank down onto the raised root-bench beside him with a boneless grace. "Con'rart plays an odd-looking flute-thing. Have him play something for all of us to hear."

Conrart hastily stepped on his initial reaction to Firesong calling his beloved instrument an "odd-looking flute thing." That instrument was one of the few things he was truly proud of. In all the long and great history of his people and his nation, there were few who could claim to have truly mastered the deceptively delicate looking instrument.

That flute was also one of the only links to his carefree childhood days that survived his 85th birthday. That day, that event, had changed everything – even his relationship with Yozak.

Ironically, the true name of the instrument had long ago been lost – even the Great Sage didn't know or at least remember its true name. Everyone simply called it a flute because that was what it most closely resembled, but that's not what it was at all. The Mazoku double piped flute transcended a normal flute in the same way that a majestic dragon transcended a lizard.

Beyond that, it was in fact poorly named because it was neither a flute nor 'double piped'. It was a 'woodwind' of sorts, employing a tiny, shaved, bamboo reed hidden just under the sliding lip-rest. The best way he could think of to describe the instrument was to say that it looked like someone had created an enlarged metal coffee straw and shoved it into one of earth's metal flutes. So in reality the instrument actually had four chambers; two that were circular and two that looked like a slightly convex triangle. The two circular chambers were designed like the inside of a conch shell spiraling outward so that the chambers inside of the instrument's crown were smaller and closer together. It meant that even though the fingering of the instrument was identical to the fingering of a normal flute, it was a hell of a lot more difficult to play. It had taken him a full 6 months to figure out how to get anything more than an eerie squeal out of his beloved instrument, even though he was already a very talented flutist.

The song he'd written after his father's death had been written as music and originally played with an ordinary flute – the double-piped flute lent that song and any other played on it an eerie undertone.

Legend had it that the flute had first come to their people after they had formed a contract with the elements as a whole, and that this was the origin of the eerie sound. It was supposedly there to remind their people of the sacred contract between elements and elementals. That eerie undertone actually sounded different to each Mazoku who heard it, because it resonated deep within their soul. Yozak had once told him that the sound reminded him of a gentle spring breeze, whereas to Conrart it conjured up images of a clear mountain spring in the wintertime.

Because of this, each flute had its own name. However it wasn't named in the same sense as Talia's harp 'My Lady' or any of the other instruments named by a bard. When he'd finally mastered it, Conrart had actually heard his flute's name in the soft sound it made as it played to his soul for the very first time.

_Hōzukimaru— his flute was Hōzukimaru._

_It meant "Demon light", and was also a reference to the winter cherry. _

He ignored Firesong's unintended slight to the instrument he played with such reverence, and carefully set about assembling it.

Hōzukimaru was an eloquent instrument with finely etched vines worked into the silver metal. He cradled it lightly in one hand and calmly considered what to play. After a moment, he brought the flute to his lips and began. As the soft slow melody of the element of Earth began to make its way out of his beloved instrument, he knew exactly what his soul wanted to play. He had nothing to fear here, not with Vanyel at his side. His beloved Companion would defend him against anything. He could give himself over to the music entirely, something he'd never been able to do in Shin Makoku.

The song of the Elements encompassed everything that his people were in music.

It started off slow with the steady, slow changing pace of the earth, and then spiraled into the many flighty moods of the air itself, before roaring with the rage of the fire spirits and transforming into the smooth ebb and flow of water before finally dwindling down into the soft gentle caress of a placid autumn spring.

After a time that seemed to span both an eternity and a mere second, he finally pulled himself away from the magic that the music wrought in his soul and lowered Hōzukimaru. Only then did he take notice of his surroundings.

_:Pretty: _A small voice said into his mind, and Conrart glanced up to find Ara sitting quietly in the tree above his head, with Cay by her side.

He couldn't help but smile.


	34. You want me to do WHAT with my hips?

A.N Okay so the Ship was overrun by a swarm of flat tailed horned lizards. They took all the rum. So the captain is out in the desert right now tracking them down, documenting the bazaar incident, and retreaving the rum. We don't exspect to see her until late august but for now the Cat and I are on our own. There will be spelling errors. And now Chapter 34

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Chapter 34: You want me to do what with my hips?

Honeyfeather sighed as the magic of the music released her. It was a beautiful piece, and it put her in mind of the beautiful harmony of the elements and of nature. How could she ever hope to impress Con'rart? How could she ever get the man to see her as anything other than a child?

Every time she'd tried anything he let her down –

- Gently

As if, he was letting down a young girl with her first crush.

It was damned infuriating!

Suddenly she smiled as inspiration hit. She knew exactly how to win his interest, and possibly how to entice him to her bed. It was quite simple really, all musicians valued music. She didn't quite know how Con'rart was able to make that thin metal flute create that eerie soul piercing undertone. It somehow simultaneously sang to her soul making her feel invincible, while forcing her to acknowledge her own inadequate mortality.

She suppressed the urge to shudder, at the memory of how she'd felt while he played. She'd felt like a small child before the wisdom of adults.

It was hard to stomach.

But at least now she knew how to impress him.

She was a musician, a natural one - they'd called her a prodigy - and still did.

She'd show him how to properly play that instrument.

They would bond over music lessons.

Yes that's it.

He would be hers within the week.

Graceful as a cat she rose to her feet and crossed the clearing to stand in front of the Herald. She offered him a saucy smile and pulled the flute out of his hand. "Let a true prodigy show you how to play that." She said impishly then added in a husky undertone, "If you ask nicely I'll even give you lessons so you can get rid of the weird undertone. Who wants to be reminded they're mortal, when I can make you feel like something more?"

As she said that last bit, she 'accidentally' brushed his thigh, in a tenderly sensual caress.

Con'rart only raised one sculpted eyebrow. His reply however truly startled her.

"You _are_ mortal, and Hōzukimaru is not as easy to play as it looks." He replied in an entirely unfazed manner.

_Hōzukimaru?_

_He'd named his instrument Hōzukimaru?_

_That sounded like a disease!_

She shrugged off the odd name and brought the truly beautiful, if oddly heavy for how thin it was instrument to her lips and began to play.

It took her exactly two cords to realize no sound was coming out of the flute, and a full six minutes after that to produce a small squeak! Infuriated she blew harder, and Hōzukimaru produced an ear piercingly shrill squeal that made her entire world spin.

Honestly she was surprised her ears weren't bleeding!

Disgusted she looked out at her audience, and noted that the only one not clamping their hands over their ears was Con'rart.

As ever, the infuriating and drop dead gorgeous man looked entirely too serene!

His only response was to tuck one errant lock of mahogany hair back behind his ear. She couldn't help noticing the fact that the little lock of hair was quickly becoming a ringlet.

A beautifully sunlit ringlet

Damnit!

Desperate to actually produce music and not an ear piercing shriek, she blew into the mouthpiece once more.

But again all she produced was a horribly shrill cry.

Infuriated she raised the flute over her head, prepared to throw the infuriating thing, only to realize at the last second that that would most defiantly not impress the flute's owner. Glaring at the instrument she roughly shoved it in the direction of Herald Con'rart.

"It's defective." She said tartly, watching the man take back his instrument almost reverently.

Annoyed she stalked off in a huff, leaving the vale behind entirely and never once noticing her silent stalker.

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Holly sighed as she quietly followed Honeyfeather. She honestly didn't know why the woman had set her sights on Conrart and clung to the clearly irrational idea with a tenacity that would be the envy of any terrier. It was clear the young man was not interested. And honestly judging by the armband the man slept with it was quite clear the man had his own sights set elsewhere. Frankly she was beginning to suspect he might be Shych to begin with.

However the boy was so jumpy, and yet timid when it came to people propositioning him that she suspected some sort of trauma.

She'd spoken with the boy's adoptive elder brother's mate, the Kestra'chern Silverfox and discovered that the man shared her suspicions. She had every intention of trying to get the boy to open up to her on their journey. However if that didn't work she'd talk to her friend Ambermoon and schedule the boy regular appointments for the duration of their two month stay at White Griffin. He obviously needed help moving past whatever had made him this shy, timid and jumpy. The incident with Forestblade couldn't be repeated. While it had been very funny – it hadn't been particularly Heraldic.

She hoped that she could get him to open up to her so that she could help him to deal with whatever emotional scars he bore. However she was confident that even if she couldn't get the boy to open up to her or if she couldn't handle his problems, Ambermoon –at least – would have no problems handling him.

After a while she caught up to Honeyfeather in a small clearing deep in the heart of the forest, outside the Vail. The girl sat curled up at the base of an enormous tree, sobbing quietly into her arms. A relatively small sparrow hawk sat on her shoulder, franticly preening her midnight black hair. Holly sighed, and after quietly settling herself down beside the girl – she waited.

It didn't take long.

In typical teenaged fashion, the girl soon started to rant.

It took her the better part of an hour to calm the hysterical teen down.

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Herald Kerowyn sighed and swung up into her companion's saddle. The Crown was sending her lifebonded lover on a diplomatic mission to Shin Makoku. However since the crown didn't know exactly how a Lifebond would respond to being stretched across two worlds, she was being sent along as well. Basically she was being sent on this mission to keep Eldan sane, and Eldan was being sent along to make sure she didn't start a diplomatic incident.

Quietly she stroked the crest of her Companion's mane. Sayvil snorted and stomped one foot in a manner eerily remnicent of a horse. Kero could sense the mare's ill ease.

It made sense, she was going on a diplomatic mission to another world, and both of her foals where currently out on their internship year with their own Heralds. That had to be hard.

Eldan's Ratha nuzzled Sayvil gently, offering words of comfort that Kero heard only as a slight buzzing in the back of her mind. She wished she could do more for her companion but for now there was little she could do. They were going to be in this other world for a year by their time; apparently it was only 6 months in Shin Makoku.

Sayvil straitened clearly ready to do her duty to Valdemar.

"Are you all right?" she asked the mare quietly.

Sayvil sighed, :_I have always worried after Vanyel, when he's away. The same is true of Jissa, however I will be fine Chosen. Ratha reminds me that they are no longer youngsters. They will both be fine, and when we return Jissa and young Yozak will have returned from their first Circuit. And Vanyel will be on his way back home by then as well, I can handle this. Thank you for your concern.:_

During their conversation they had been slowly approaching the gate that would take them into the other world. Kerowyn rubbed her temples as they passed through the gate, she was given the Mazoku language just hours before and her head still throbbed.

She blinked and shielded her eyes at the abrupt change in light. In Valdamar it was early morning, here it was a little past noon.

_:Am I really seeing a flying Skeleton?: _Sayvil asked abruptly.

Kero's head snapped up and she gazed up at the winged skeleton flying over head in utter shock, her mouth hanging open. "Yes," she replied "that is defiantly a flying skeleton."

"They're members of the Flybone tribe." A voice said from just behind them, in oddly accented and slightly archaic Valdemarian.

Sayvil and Ratha reared up onto their hind legs, and pivoted around on their hooves to face the possible threat. Kero's hand dropped to the hilt of her sword, just in case, absently she noticed Eldan doing the same thing at her side.

The boy in front of her raised his hands in a show of good intent and she let go of her sword despite the small troop of men mounted on horses behind him. She recognized him from Elspeth's and Conrart's descriptions. Black hair and black eyes, marked him as one of Shin Makoku's celebrated double blacks, but the glasses, identified him as Murata Ken, Great Sage of Shin Makoku.

She offered the boy a polite bow, idly wondering about his actual age, he looked to be about 16 but that was no guarantee. She'd learned that when she'd assumed Conrart was 19, only to discover that he'd actually been about 135 at the time.

The boy inclined his head and introduced himself as Murata Ken, she was glad she'd been correct in her assumption of the boy's identity.

"Come," Murata said after a moment's silence "We will escort you to Covenant Castle."

Conrart Weller gapped at his 'adoptive older brother' in utter shock. "You want me to do what with my hips?" he demanded, completely aghast.

Firesong sighed, and slid behind him grabbing his hips in a way that would have seen anyone else (Yozak included) thrown into the nearest wall. Conrart clamped down on the burning need to put the other man through a nearby tree only by the exertion of an extreme amount of self-control.

"Move your hips in a figure 8, by the Star Eyed Goddess you're wound tighter then a lute string." Firesong instructed attempting to steer his hips.

Conrart pulled away, and crossed his arms in a defensive position. "Exactly why do you want me to learn how to dance? I know how to dance. I've been dancing since I was 3."

"The dance of the water is a great dance, a good way to relax and enrich your soul. I'm not asking you to learn or the dance of flame or the dance of earth, or even the dance of wind. I want you to learn this dance because you are an elemental and you should respect and pay homage to that element now try again, and this time be sensual."

"How exactly dose undulating my hips and ribcage and acting like a … like I grew up in the pleasure district have anything to do with honoring the element I'm contracted to? My Lady mother would be appalled if she ever saw me standing on a table thrusting my hips for an audience. It's not pri – proper."

Firesong raised an eyebrow, he got the feeling that 'proper' had not been what the boy was actually going to say. In many ways Con'rart reminded him of Elspeth when he'd first met the former Crowned Princess of Valdemar.

The only difference was he was a lot more reserved, actually at times the boy was downright conservative. Oh well the clans would fix that. There had to be a way to get the man in touch with his inner element to make him stop seeing this dance as something that was 'unseemly'. He'd seemed to enjoy watching him and other members of the Clan perform, but he couldn't seem to get over – what Firesong had decided was 'over-breeding' to actually relax and enjoy himself enough to just be.

He smiled as an idea came to him. "Come here," he said, quietly. "I will help you, but you need to relax."

Con'rart walked over to him quietly.

Goddess he was so tense, Firesong could see the boy's muscles quivering. Idly he wondered just what had happened to the boy to make him this way. He wasn't uptight like most of the higher nobility he'd met. It wasn't that he was solely concerned with propriety. No there was very real fear in the way he interacted with people and in his desire for personal space.

Idly he wondered what the boy had been like before he was chosen; Aya had once told him that Vanyel had said he'd loosened up considerably since he was chosen. So what did that mean for Con'rart?

Firesong gently placed his hands on the other man's hips. "Close your eyes, and just feel." He told his little brother as he resolved to send word on to the rest of the clans. "Relax and feel the water in the air. Feel it against your skin, and let that water flow through your very being. You are water, as an elemental you can be nothing else. Let yourself be the water."

As he spoke he gently moved the relatively younger man's body through the steps of the dance. Finally after about an hour he took a step back and watched. He'd noticed the slight movements of the water in the hot pool they were standing by, beginning to mirror the boy's movements about a fourth of a candle-mark ago. Now as he stepped back he picked up an instrument and began to play, changing the tempo and noticed with glee that the boy instinctively changed his steps to match the tempo of the music.

He also noticed that the water itself was undulating, rising and falling in time with young Con'rart's steps.

Half a candle-mark later Firesong stopped playing and Con'rart slowly stopped dancing, noticing only then how the water had twined around him like living snakes of water and ice.

"Congratulations." He said softly with a small smile on his face. "Now just hold on to that freedom, and let it grow. You're still young, act like it."

A.N. I don't know if I've been doing it the whole time so I'm noting it I spelled Herald Eldan's name Alden and had to go back and fix it so if I've been referring to Eldan as Alden please forgive me and note that from now on his name will be spelled right. Any way sorry for the delay, please read and review.


	35. the death bell tolls

Chapter 35: The death bell tolls.

Conrart sighed and pulled his white, fur lined cloak closer to his shoulders. He shivered and ignored the way the slight movement made the small, silver bells and crystal beads braided into his hair, chime and clatter together.

He was freezing.

Not surprising since he was currently standing in the knee deep snow outside of K'Shena Vale. The icy snow was a stark contrast to the almost tropical warmth inside the vale. He leaned against Vanyel and listened carefully to Holly and Winterhawk explain exactly what a Basilisk was and exactly how they were going to remove this obviously gravid serpent, from its chosen lair. Honestly, he probably would have been more comfortable with this if he'd been removing a mother dragon from her nest and trying to make off with one of the eggs – at least then he would have known what to expect from the creature temperament wise.

"Winterhawk and I will handle making the cave intolerably noisy if you will handle putting rocks in that thing's bed. Your fetching gift is strong enough to move large rocks isn't it?" Holly inquired mildly.

Conrart nodded in reply before adding, "would it be helpful, if I used my gift to make the icicles start to melt, and snap in certain places?"

Holly gazed at him for a moment, and then asked, "You can control water, am I right?"

Again he nodded.

She grinned, "Do you think you could make ice form in the cave?"

Conrart blinked, he actually hadn't thought of that, "I've never controlled ice or anything beyond water in its usual form, but I can try."

"Then do so," Winterhawk replied evenly.

Conrart ignored him and started trying to reform the ice in the cave into large rocks to disturb the beasts sleep. He could hear the oddly pitched shriek of Holly and Winterhawk's magic – actually if the Basilisk's range of hearing was anything like his, he was surprised the things ears were not bleeding.

He was also fairly certain that his were about to start.

Shinou it hurt and he didn't know how much more of it he could take. To make matters worse the Basilisk wasn't moving, and the magically created sound –which was just at the limit of human hearing but well within his – was getting higher and shriller, coming in intermittent blasts that were close enough together to give him absolutely no relief.

The fact that he was getting it from two directions only served to make it worse – Vanyel could hear it too and it echoed painfully down their link to each other.

Pain made him stupid.

He reached out with his demonic gift and began to pull up large chunks of ice from the thick sheet covering the surface of the nearby river. Shaping them into sharp jagged boulders and transporting them into the great serpent's lair with his fetching gift. It was hard work and the use of both his Demonic and Heraldic gifts spent his energy as if he had actually physically been doing the work by hand. He was soon drenched in sweat despite the icy wind and chill of winter.

At last after what seemed like hours, the basilisk began to move. She slithered out of the small cave and began her trek across the frozen land, led forward by the tantalizing spot of warmth dangled before her by Winterhawk's magic and forced forward by the high-pitched shrieking created by Holly's. Conrart breathed a sigh of relief and followed his mentor and Winterhawk, sweating and breathing hard.

Vanyel nudged him gently and he mounted without protest, oddly exhausted.

Vanyel trudged through the snow following Holly, Rohanan, and Winterhawk –who was currently perched behind her on her companion's back. They had only gone about a mile when the Basilisk decided she'd had enough. She rounded on them sharply. Rearing up so that a full two thirds of her massive length was off the ground and standing strait up. She opened her enormous, putrid maw and hissed at them; icy wind rushing past row upon row of large, wickedly curved serrated teeth. The smallest had to be about the size of his hand. She struck with an astounding swiftness for a nearly torpid, reptile, ripping up chunks of frozen earth and snow where Rohanan had been standing scant seconds before. Rearing back up she came at them again, battering hastily raised magical shields until they began to crackle and finally to fissure ominously.

Conrart didn't think he simply reacted to the plight they were currently in. Using his demonic gift he created a shield of ice and hard packed snow; it shot up around them forming a half dome that sang to his senses of raw demonic elemental power.

It was strong alluring and quite heady.

He felt however briefly, invincible as his blood sang with the power of his people. Without realizing it or even really trying, he drove the massive creature back with jagged spikes of snow and ice while sheltering himself and his companions. After a span of time that was both an eternity and a second the beast turned and slithered off, retreating into the forest away from any settlements.

The world spun as the nearly intoxicating power flowing through his veins receded back into the water it had originally came from. In that moment as the power, and adrenalin fell away; he realized he was about to pay the price for borrowing so much of it. In order to use the gift he first had to provide the energy to keep it flowing.

Demons had died from using less.

He had just enough time to appreciate the irony, before his body gave out beneath him, each muscle becoming as loose as the water he could normally control. He pitched forward and to the side, sliding out of his saddle to land in boneless heap upon the snow covered ground. His last thoughts before the darkness closed around him was that this truly was the most peaceful way for a demon to die – cradled in the gently flowing water's of their element's energy.

His death – like his dear friend Lady Julia's was a good one.

There was no pain.

The last thing he heard before darkness claimed him - was several frantic voices calling his name.

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Vanyel screamed in agony as his Chosen was ripped violently from him. He moaned; he could not lose his Chosen. Yet the boy had just rather effectively used what appeared to be His people's equivalent of a final strike, he had poured all of his energy into defending them all. He literally didn't even have the energy to keep his own heart functioning.

The boy was about to literally die of exhaustion.

Vanyel reared screaming in terror and reacted without thinking. Companions were not supposed to negate Final Strike, doing so could cost them their own life and in the process the life of their Chosen. However he wasn't like most Companions, in life he had been the most powerful Herald-mage in Valdemar's history. More powerful even then his many times great granddaughter Herald-mage Elspeth. He still maintained the bulk of his power and abilities, though he was rather hampered by a lack of hands. Terrified he reached for the nearest node, drew as much energy as he could into his own body, and using himself as a buffer against the raging torrent of power, he flung a line of power after his chosen.

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Yozak shifted and tried to get comfortable in his nest of blankets, he and Koran had gotten snowed into this waystation nearly a week ago, and he was bored. They'd been discussing Koran's family and what little Yozak remembered of his.

Abruptly Yozak stopped, feeling oddly empty.

Confused he examined the emptiness which was rapidly becoming an agonizing ache in his very soul. It only took him a moment to pinpoint it.

"Conrart!" he cried in alarm, "don't you dare let go!"

He wasn't even aware of the lines of pure energy he'd flung out in a desperate attempt to catch his friend, or of the very physical gesture of reaching out with his hand. All he knew was that Conrart was slipping beyond his reach and that he wouldn't be able to hold him.

Frantic and nearly incoherent in terror he threw out line after line of energy determined to catch the other man, he couldn't, wouldn't lose Conrart! That was the end of it – as far as he was concerned. He felt Jissa make a grab for him trying to pull him out of what he already knew was a suicidal attempt to save Conrart from the all consuming void.

_:Chosen!:_ Jissa called.

"I won't lose him!" he snapped, "I can't Jissa, I can't, don't ask that of me. I love him."

_:Then I will help you and Vanyel hold him, but I cannot take away the price it will exact from you, I can only hold it at bay for a time.: _She replied.

"Then I will pay it and happily, even to the cost of my own life."

_:It won't come that high, Vanyel has managed to catch him, we just have to help hold him.: _Jissa told him mildly.

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Dan Hiri Weller stood before him a man in his prime, strong and fit. Exactly how he remembered his father being. For a moment he was terribly confused. Where was he? Why was everything glowing a soft blue? And where was Vanyel? The stallion had promised to stand by him always; to protect him from anything and everything. So where was he and why had he been left alone. Left alone to face the ghosts of his past – his father's ghost standing before him baring his way from the beautiful glowing place behind him.

Then he understood.

_AH HELL!_

What he didn't understand was why his father was there. Nor did he know the dark, wise-eyed woman standing beside his father. He was quite perplexed by the flickering double image of a white horse, which seemed to overlap her.

"Conrart," his father said gently, "you must go back."

Startled, Conrart took a step forward, longing to feel the comfort of the other man's embrace. He longed to be protected not protector, to let someone else be the strong shoulder. "Papa?" he whispered.

"You must go Conrart." His voice was steel. "It is not your time."

"But I'm so tired." He replied, "Please I just want to sleep."

"Fight Conrart, damn you fight." The man, who was his father, replied. "You do not belong here. I will not let you give up boy. 'Fandes will aide me in that. Now fight."

Completely confused, for he could not in all his memories of the apparition before him, remember his father ever taking that tone with him, he took a step back. Without thinking he cried out for the only source of solid ground he could think of.

"Yozak?" he cried, though it came out as a whisper. "Vanyel, where are you? I- I am afraid."

And then he burned.

He was buffeted like a leaf in a gale, but under it all he could feel Vanyel, and oddly Yozak. Vanyel was a blue-glowy, swirling beacon in the torrent. He set his sights on that beacon, and made his struggling way towards it, one agonizingly exhausted step after another.

"I love you, my son." His father whispered before he and the woman disappeared taking the light with them -

Leaving him in total darkness, at the mercy of that turbulent sea, with only the small flame of Vanyel and smaller flame of Yozak's strengths to guide him

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Conrart moaned and climbed slowly up out of the arms of sleep. Great one he was tired. The first thing he noticed was that his pillow was moving – rising and falling steadily under his cheek.

"Van?" he whispered.

_:I'm here my Chosen, I'm here.: _The stallion replied with an odd gentleness.

"Why am I? I – I saw papa." He managed after a few minutes of trying to make his tongue work, he was hardly coherent and he knew it.

_:Don't talk, use your Mindspeech Chosen, and you are alive because several people refused to let you embrace the Shadow-Lover, just yet.: _Vanyel told him gently, before adding in a slightly sharper tone. _:All I have to say about the stunt you just pulled is – if you ever do anything like that again I will kick you from here to the Weller lands and back again. Now that I've informed you of the consequences of further foolishness I will warn you that Herald Holly is standing a few feet away, and I believe she has several things to say to you.:_

Conrart moaned and buried his face in Van's mane; this was not something he really wanted to deal with this right now. All he wanted was to go back to sleep – he was fairly certain he could sleep for a week if they would just leave him alone.

"How are you feeling?" Holly inquired in an oddly gentle tone of voice.

"I-" he croaked, unable to say any more vocally, when his throat felt like he'd been chewing on gravel. Mentally sputtering curses, he switched to mindspeech. _:I'm fine thanks.: _he replied, unable to keep the exhaustion out of his mental voice.

Holly gave him an incredulous look, "You don't sound 'fine'." She replied mildly.

Conrart felt himself flush, it was impossible to lie mind to mind, however it was possible to generalize, evade a question and even to temporize – he was usually rather good at it. He sighed, _:I really am fine, just exhausted. I don't think I am going to be doing anything like that again anytime soon.: _He yawned briefly curling up tighter against his Companion and absently rubbing his cheek against soft white fur – unaware of just how young the action made him look; particularly since he lacked facial hair. _:Can I have some water please?: _ He asked after a moment.

"Of Course," Holly said gently, before turning and walking away. She returned a few minutes later with a dipper full of cool, fresh, clear water.

To his utter humiliation, he needed her help to hold the thing so that he could drink. He was so tired he just couldn't stop shaking. He was so never doing that again. He flushed even deeper when Holly physically rearranged him against Vanyel's side, pulling a fluffy blanket up around him before tucking him in like a small child. "Get some rest Conrart. I'll lecture you on Heraldic stupidity when you can actually stand up on your own again."

Conrart moaned, and closed his eyes.

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Kero sighed as she leaned against the balcony of her rooms in Covenant Castle. It had been an interesting day. Herald Conrart had always spoken highly of his boy King, now she new why. The boy was young, and naïve, but he was sincere with a good heart. His first questions had been after the health and welfare of the two Mazoku who had been chosen.

The young king's fiancé was an interesting young man. Actually Kero found him to be rather juvenile. At first glance they seemed to be complete opposites; while Heika Yuri was sweet, kind, gentle and compassionate, Wolfram von Belifeild was a spoilt brat. However on closer inspection it was easy to see that he had a good heart.

She straitened and left the room, it was late but she felt like exploring.

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Yozak moaned as he crawled up out of the arms of sleep. The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes was the steaming mug of something foul smelling just in front of his nose. He recognized the stench of the herbs used in headache and backlash potions. Groaning he took the mug and downed it in a single gulp, trying vainly not to taste it.

He gagged, gasped and tried not to vomit as the taste coated his tongue and the back of his throat. Koran let him gag for a moment before handing him a waterskin. It took a few minutes but he eventually got the taste off his tongue.

"We need to have a talk, Yozak." the man said quietly. "You need to understand something. This connection you have to Herald Conrart is not entirely the norm even for Heralds. I think it's time you came to terms with that. We will talk as soon as your headache recedes."

Yozak groaned; he really wasn't in the mood to be lectured on the 'unhealthy nature of his relationship with one of the princes of Shin Makoku' – again. Couldn't people just understand the fact that they had grown up together, that they were close?

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Koran smiled at his gapping young intern. He'd managed part of what he'd set out to do this afternoon. However it appeared that Yozak still wasn't ready to admit to a good part of what he'd been trying to get the boy to see. With a little bit of luck they could solve the boy's rather bad case of denial before returning to Haven. He had to admit, Yozak's reaction to finally accepting part of his bond to 'his best friend' was rather amusing. The boy looked as perplexed as if he'd just been attacked by a trout.

"I'm in love with my best friend, and it's perfectly alright?"

Yozak kept repeating that over and over to himself, though his tone was alternating between a statement of fact and a nearly desperate question. Apparently it was going to take Yozak some time for the man to fully come to terms with that little discovery.

Koran settled himself a bit more comfortably against Mandy – who he was using as a backrest – and waited.

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Kerowyn gazed around the small room she was standing in with mild surprise; it was a gallery of some kind. Portraits lined the walls, a few had cases full of interesting things next to them the most noticeable was an entire wall that had been dedicated to only 2 people. Two portraits hung side by side, one of a blonde haired man, with blue eyes, wearing armor with a sword at his belt. The other was a double black – one of only three in known history (according to Conrart). That meant these two had to be Shinou and Daikenja, Shin Makoku's First King turned god and their Great Wiseman. It explained why they had their own wall. Closer inspection revealed them to be exactly who she suspected.

She walked around the room looking at the various portraits, noting that some of them were labeled with more than just the subject's name.

Labels like _King Slaughter, _and_ King Yuri the kindhearted, _Caught her attention briefly. She smiled and continued into another one of the attached rooms. She looked at the men and women dressed in their many different uniforms and wondered just who they all were; the door had been labeled "The Hall of Honors" in gold letters. Next to every portrait was a glass case containing medals, most of them had more than one row.

The portrait of a very familiar young man wearing a tan uniform caught her eye and she took a closer look at the label.

_The Lion of Luttenburg - Lord Conrart (Conrad) Laurence Weller, _beside the portrait was a glass case with row upon row of medals.

The date of birth told her that this was exactly who she thought it was. Herald Conrart's face gazed out of the portrait at her. His brown eyes oddly dull, despite the flecks of silver and the artist's attention to detail. After a moment it dawned on her why this portrait was so familiar yet so very different from the man she knew.

This was Conrart Weller, not Herald Conrart – the barely suppressed pain that had clung to the man for the first year he'd spent at Haven was clearly visible in those painted eyes. She was glad the look was no longer in his eyes.

She moved on looking over the many different portraits, only to pause at the last one. Unlike all of the others this one had no medals, and the dates of birth and death put the man at only 80 years of age, but unlike Wolfram (who she knew to be in his 90's) the man in the portrait was fully grown and looked to be in his early 40's.

He had to be human – there was no other explanation.

The name plate read _Lord Dan Hiri Weller._

"My late husband," a woman's voice said from behind her.

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Yozak sighed and pulled his cloak a bit closer to his body, it was cold but at least they were no longer snowed in. So far their ride had been silent, both Koran and Jissa were leaving him to think about what they'd been talking about yesterday. He knew he was in love with Conrart. He'd always loved his best friend in some way or another, but Koran and Jissa both seemed to think there was something more in his relationship then just unrequited love.

They thought it was a Lifebond.

The very idea was ridiculous.

Sure he always knew what Conrart was feeling, but he was the empathy, he knew what everyone was feeling.

They weren't Lifebound!

Were they?

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Jissa snorted and shook her head in a manner that made her look very like a horse. After a brief consultation between herself and Amanda, Herald Koran had tried to convince her chosen of the true nature of his bond to her brother's Chosen. So far it hadn't gone very well. Yozak had accepted the fact that he was and always had been madly (bordering on obsessive) in love with his best friend. However he flat out refused to acknowledge their attempts to get him to accept the fact that he and Herald Conrart were actually Lifebonded.

Actually he'd set about systematically rejecting their every argument. At least now the seeds of acceptance had been firmly planted.

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	36. The plot… appears

Chapter 36: The plot… appears

Emperor Melles, shifted slightly on the Iron Throne, twirling a throwing knife - with a rampant winged horse trailing a broken chain stamped into the hilt – between his fingers. He smiled vindictively at the little blade; years ago his predecessor had attempted to absorb Hardorn and Valdemar. Prince Ancar had been easily corrupted, but somehow Princess Elspeth had escaped their influence. The knife, he knew had once belonged to the princess.

Back then they hadn't known that the monarchs of Valdemar where descended from one of their own escaped barons. He would have acted sooner if not for the Mage Storms knocking out all of the magic that powered their way of life. It had been 13 long years since the Storms had disrupted their way of life, but now- now was the time to take over Valdemar. Also to finally get rid of that bastard Tremane, who now fancied himself king of Hardorn.

However first he was going to crush Valdemar's spirit. By the time he was done there wouldn't be a man woman or child in all of Valdemar that would offer aid to any of those damned Heralds. By the time he was done, the people of Valdemar would welcome his rule with open arms.

To them anything would seem better than those horrible Heralds.

Yes by the time he was done his empire would finally expand west and stretch to engulf the borders of Hardorn and Valdemar.

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Mel sighed as he cradled his mother's old - yet oddly new looking - lute in his hand. It had been passed down through his family for generations, and had held a place of honor in the household for many generations before his grandfather had died and handed Bard Medren's prized instrument over to his only daughter, Mel's mother. His mother loved and cherished the instrument, but his father – Andrew – thought Bards and music itself was a useless waste of time and not an occupation worthy of a man. Andrew also felt that any female bard or minstrel was likely a whore. Men who spent their time with 'foolish strumming' fell into the category of catamite as far as his father was concerned.

The vast majority of the battering the old instrument had taken came at the hands of his father.

To date the man had thrown it out six times and thrown it across the room several times. Once Andrew had even decided that he was going to be rid of the instrument once and for all – he'd taken an ax to the beloved heirloom in full view of the family while Mel's seven burly elder brothers helped to restrain Mel and his hysterical mother.

To their collective surprise the lute had started to glow a soft iridescent bluish gold, angry sparks flying off the incandescent shield before with a loud crack, the ax literally broke apart and fell to the floor in 6 pieces.

His father had been furious, the ax had been expensive, and it was the blade that had shattered. That night, his father had thrown the lute into the hearth and lit the fire. His grin hadn't lasted long after the fire burned out to reveal the untouched instrument under its luminescent shield. His father had been enraged and had thrown not the lute but his mother across the room. He'd been ranting the whole time about how she'd witched it.

Which was utter nonsense, his mother didn't have any sort of gift of magic – unless one counted her odd ability to make even dead plants perk up and grow.

Much later that night – after his entire family had gone to sleep he'd snuck down out of his room in the attic and taken the much loved instrument. He'd carried it up to his room and hid it in his clothing trunk covering it with what little he had in the way of spare clothing. Hoping with everything he was that his family wouldn't find the lute there.

In the morning his father had searched the house looking for the instrument, which he had decided to sell to a merchant in the city as a 'witched instrument'. He'd been certain it would fetch a pretty penny. The man had actually rummaged through his hiding place and despite the impossibility of the event had somehow overlooked the instrument.

Two days later, while his father and brothers where in the city working, Mel had taken the instrument out and begun to play at playing the lute, to his surprise he'd quickly worked out the fingering. His mother had found him nearly an hour later, still strumming the lute. She'd offered him a small smile and told him the story of how the instrument had come into his family.

Apparently bard Medren had been the favorite (and illegitimate) nephew of the legendary Herald-Mage Vanyel. The Lute had been the Herald's gift to his nephew upon discovering the boy's gift and ensuring his enrolment in the bardic collegiums. Apparently Vanyel himself had witched it when his nephew left for his Journeymen years.

It had come as a great shock to learn that his many times great grandfather on his mother's side had been Bard Medren. It meant that he and his mother where (however distantly) related to the legendary Herald-Mage Vanyel.

Mel glanced up as his mother came into his room, and gently laid aside the much loved instrument. It had taken him 3 years to learn how to truly play it. She settled herself down on the foot of the bed he shared with three of his siblings.

For a moment she just looked at him, and then she finally spoke. "Melody child, in three weeks you turn 12, and I can no longer protect you from your father. However I can give you a chance to get out of here. I've managed to get you an interview with the head of the bardic collegiums, in four weeks." She paused before adding in a small voice, "I don't think I need to tell you, your father can not know of this."

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Herald Yozak smiled as he walked down the streets of Zoe. The little town was on the very end of his circuit. In two days time they would be leaving this town and heading back towards Haven. Soon he would be going home.

He'd just finished executing his Heraldic duties to the town and was now just walking; he'd long ago given up on the idea of blending in with the everyday man and lurking in shadows. The sad truth was he stood out like a sore thumb in his whites and fully understood why Kero referred to the Heraldic uniform as 'shoot me now'. It was impossible to hide in plain sight while wearing his whites. So he'd given it up and resigned himself to the entourage of small children he invariably acquired every time he set foot in a town.

Jissa trailed quietly behind him, neatly avoiding stepping on any of the small hands that were trying desperately to pet her with sticky fingers.

_: How is it that little children always manage to be coated in something sticky?: _Jissa asked her mental voice coated with annoyance.

Yozak laughed; "because," he replied not caring that nearby adults would likely think he was talking to himself. "Sticky things, or things that have the potential to become sticky are the most fun to play in. You know that Jissa, or have you forgotten what it was like to be a foal?"

Jissa snorted and nudged his shoulder, _: Next village you can attract all the sticky creatures and I'll be heraldicly spectacular.:_

Yozak snorted, turned, walked to her side and swung easily up into her saddle. "If you say so my lady love." He replied, as they turned and headed back towards the waystation.

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Koren threw himself to the floor and attempted to take evasive maneuvers from his attacking dinner. He'd bought what he'd assumed was a new variety of mango from a street vender in Zoe. Turns out what he'd sampled earlier hadn't been a piece of meat marinated in the meat and juice of the fruit as he'd suspected, but rather the 'mango' was a living, breathing, highly annoyed change-creature. Not to mention winged.

The shrieking 'flying fruit' dove at him again. Flying in circles, the brightly colored thing that looked like and orange and red rat with wings, minus the tail, landed on the wall again; chirping angrily. Koren sighed and sat down, he'd have to go back to Zoe in the morning and talk to Sunny about the mango he'd sold him. At the very least he had to make sure the man had the right permits to sell change-creatures. The fact that the man was selling them as food, without disclosing exactly what the caged mangos had been worried him. Many change-creatures where poisonous and their meat could be toxic. It was the same with change-plants, which was why the sale of such creatures was heavily monitored and taxed by the crown.

Come to think of it he had thought it rather interesting that the man had hit the mango he'd sold him 'to tenderize it', but at the time he'd dismissed it. He'd also wondered why Sunny called it 'Flying fruit'.

Now he knew.

The door to the waystation opened under the 'flying fruit' before he had a chance to warn Yozak, and the 'flying fruit' once again attacked.

Yozak however didn't budge an inch from the doorway despite the fact that he was letting in the cold air. Instead the man held up his arm and began to whisper in his native tongue. After a moment the thing landed on his offered arm, and Yozak went the rest of the way into the waystation, holding the door open for his Companion briefly before closing the door behind her swishing tail.

"What's this about you eating my batty friend here?" he asked, then paused and glanced down at the bat clinging to his white tunic, "no I'm sorry I don't have any bugs. I'll see if I can find you some in the morning."

The bat made a disappointed chirping noise and took off, it flew across the room and flipping itself upside down the little thing perched itself on the wall near the fireplace. Yozak laughed and turned his attention back to Koren.

"I thought he was a mango and bought him at the market." Koren replied mildly and then quietly inquired, "What exactly is a bat?"

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Yozak sighed and ignored the wet spot on the knees of his leggings. He'd spent the better part of an hour digging through the nearly frozen ground looking for earthworms, to feed the bat hiding under his cloak. He and Squeak had a deal he'd let him hide from the cold under his cloak if the bat didn't poop on him. He and Koren where heading back up to Zoe to see if the vender, one Sunny by name, had a permit to sell change-creatures. If he did they would admonish him to correctly inform people what they were buying to avoid incidents like the one with Koren yesterday.

If he didn't, then they were going to confiscate the change creatures and see to it that the little things where sent somewhere where they might be set free without dying, or causing too much trouble; possibly in the little pseudo vale at Haven or even within the shelter of K'Valdemar Vale, however first they'd have to see to it that all of the little things where the same type.

Squeak seemed unhappy about going back to the man with the cage, but Yozak assured him he would not be given back. Koren had bought him fairly, so now by law Sunny had no claim to him. The little bat seemed unimpressed by his argument.

He smiled remembering how annoyed the little guy had been when he'd resorted to calling him a rat with wings last night after 'nocturnal, flying, mammal that hunts using echolocation' had failed to make an impression on Koren.

Ok so technically Squeak bore a closer resemblance to a flying fox then to any of the insectivores he'd ever seen.

But oh well.

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Conrad shifted in his saddle as they left yet another vale behind. They were making their way steadily west towards the western sea and the Kaled'a'in/K'leshya city of White Griffin. They where hopping between the different vales. Riding a day's distance from the one vale before gateing to the next and staying for a month before riding out again. Once they made it to White Griffon they would be staying there for 3 months. Their mission there was two parted; firstly they were to update the three Heralds permanently stationed within the great city as representatives of Valdemar, on the everyday maters of Valdemar, changes in laws and the likes. Whatever was needed to keep then up to date on the interests of the people and crown of their great nation. Heralds Tafri, Hadrin, and Hadrin's own internee Rojek would be returning to Valdemar in a little over three years time; after serving as envoys for 6 years.

Conrad had met Rojek and Tefri briefly during his first week out of bed, immediately following his arrival in Valdemar, but he didn't really know them well.

Secondly they were there both as representatives and envoys of their own crown, but also to see to the safety of the K'leshya's new envoys on their journey back to Valdemar, where they would replace the current envoy. Although from what Holly had told him, Treyvan and his mate Hydona had chosen to remain in Valdemar. Their two children however where currently at the old K'Sheyna vale training to be Silver Griffons.

It would be a few months yet before they reached White Griffon but still Conrart couldn't help looking forward to it. Vanyel whickered and sent him a gentle wave of approval.

Conrart smiled and patted Vanyel's proudly arched crest, much as it had hurt to be parted from his friends, his family, his godson and even his world, Conrart found himself thanking Shinou every day for giving him Vanyel and taking him out of a situation where Gwilherm could have so easily broken what was left of his spirit. Under Vanyel's careful care he was finally beginning to admit that what had happened that night almost 53 years ago was not his fault. He'd been a boy of 85, while Gwilherm had been a man of Yozak's current age. That he'd also been the captain of his personal guard who was supposed to protect him – not beat him bloody – only added to the man's shame.

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Bard Anika gazed quietly at the seven children assembled before her, each with hopeful expressions on their bright young faces. These children all had some touch of the Bardic Gift, but none of them had a gift that was impressive enough to be accepted into the Collegium, not without at least one of the other Gifts. She'd already pulled 3 children aside and admitted them into the Bardic Collegium on the basis of their Bardic Gifts alone.

"You all have a trace of the Gift, but not enough of it to be admitted on its merits' alone. There are two more Bardic Gifts and I'm sorry to say they are a bit more difficult to gage. As such I am assigning you all a task to gage whether or not you have the talent and creativity to become a bard. I want you all to pick a historical figure, and then I will have you create a song to put to the music I provide."

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Yozak held his head high as he and Koren rode up to the little orphanage they had helped to fortify for the winter. Glancing back at the chirras they had switched their mules for, with another Herald who was headed south, before the snows had set in. Chirras where far better suited to their current weather temperatures. They had a triple-layered fur coat, which insulated them from the icy northern winds, and while they were as tall as a horse with a much longer neck – their feet where clawed and had more in common with a dog then a horse. It enabled them to claw out a path or in some cases walk on top of the snow.

The cage he'd secured to his Chirras when they left Zoe was still secured as far as he could tell. Squeak and the rest of his clan – those that survived their run-in with Sunny at least where as warm as could be expected, draped in a blanket he'd bought in Zoe. He'd stuffed the cage with woodchips, soft moss and lichens, remembering how his own mother had stuffed the cracks of their meager hovel during the harsh winters in northern Great Shimeron.

Naga greeted them at the door, and Yozak leapt down from Jissa's back to let the Companion head into the meager shelter. They were just coming to check on the little group of orphaned Change-children, to make sure they had at least the essentials. He unstrapped the cage and handed it to Naga. "Would you take my friends inside for me?" he asked calmly, "I fear they like this weather as much as you do."

Naga nodded, "What are they?" he hissed, hearing the soft squeak.

"Change-bats," Yozak replied and then added as an afterthought. "They wouldn't make good food."

Naga nodded and carried the cage inside as Mandy and Koran followed. Yozak smiled and led the Chirras around to the other side of the little building where they would be out of the wind.

No sooner had he entered the house himself that his arms where full of a small blue haired child.

"Papa fox," Saori cried, tucking his face in Yozak's warm cloak.

He smiled and hugged the child close.

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Koren sighed as he glanced around the waystation, like all of the northern stations it was built so that it could hold both Heralds and Companions, in addition to the Chirras. His own Mandy and Yozak's Jissa, had wedged themselves between the two shaggy Chirras for additional warmth. He glanced over at Yozak who was tending the fire in their hearth, oddly silent.

He hadn't spoken a word since they'd left the orphanage.

Koren smiled slightly remembering how the other man had pulled several small toys out of his saddle bags. They were all things he'd bought in the marketplace at Zoe. He'd handed each child what was probably the first mid-winter gift they'd ever received. To both of their surprises though, little Saori had handed Yozak a gift he had made for him.

The look on Yozak's face as he'd accepted the little knotted rag rug from the child had been priceless.

The little thing was small enough to fit in the palm of Yozak's hand, and was probably not worth the cost of the torn and worn rags it had been knotted from – in addition to being gaudy as hell for its color scheme. However Yozak had gravely tucked it into his breast pocket as if it had been the most valuable thing in the world; praising the child's craftsmanship and generosity while he did so.

Yozak had cradled the child in his arms, singing softly in his own language, until the little boy had fallen asleep, then he'd handed the child to Servana and she'd put him to bed. They'd left a few hours later, both of them knowing it would be the last time in at least a year that they got the chance to see Servana, Naga and the children in their care. For Koren, at least this was one of the circuits he was regularly assigned to, so he would have a chance to check in on the children. Yozak however would be returning to the capital city a full Herald.

Who was Koren kidding, the way Yozak had handled Sunny told him the boy was already a full Herald, from here on out all he would be doing was observing Yozak's decisions. As for Yozak the man had been oddly silent since they left.

He was worried about the relatively younger man.

_:He has fallen in love with the child, Chosen.: _Mandy said sadly. _:He wants to be a father to the boy, but he also wants what is best for him, and doesn't think he's it.:_

Koren suppressed the urge to groan, and watched as his internee opened the cage so that the bats could stretch their wings. Next the man pulled out a small container full of earth worms, night crawlers, and any other invertebrate he could find in this frozen land.

Why couldn't his internee ever be simple?

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AN. holly crap! Is that a plot?


	37. Annoyance

Chapter 37: Annoyance

Companion Steffen sighed as he wondered aimlessly through Companion's Field. He hated to admit it but he was lonely, despite being surrounded by other Companions. He couldn't help wondering what Vanyel was up to. He'd been feeling brief flashes of emotion from Vanyel lately; he just hoped his lifebonded's Chosen was okay.

He shook his head trying to clear away the odd buzzing feeling as he made his way towards the palace gardens. What would it feel like to have a Chosen? Vanyel, he felt, had more of an advantage in that department then he did simply because the man had once been a Herald. While it was true that he had once been Herald trainee T'lindel, he had died before he'd even earned his whites. The boy had taken his own life after being reputed.

It was hard for him to handle sometimes.

He had to admit that after death, once he'd regained his memories of being T'lindel he'd found seeing Vanyel with his Companion Y'fandes very hard to handle.

The nature of the Companion-Herald bond was one of unconditional love. As T'lindal he'd so badly violated everything that being a Herald stood for that his own beloved Companion, Gala had reputed him – severing the bond between them.

Yet Vanyel in a moment of pain that had – however briefly – stripped him of his sanity had crossed that same line of revenge just as badly as T'lindal had. However Y'fandes hadn't reputed her chosen – she'd stood by him and helped him to recover. He'd often wondered why Gala hadn't supported him the same way 'Fandes had supported Vanyel.

It had taken him nearly 35 years, and a lot of help for both Vanyel and Y'fandes, to come to terms with things.

He sighed and resolved never to make the same mistakes Gala had made with his Chosen. If she had only seen how badly his twin's death had affected him, if she'd only realized he'd become obsessed with his need to avenge the systematic murder of his entire family. If she'd only helped him to come to terms with what had happened rather than leaving him to handle it on his own…

'If only…'

There were too many of them to count, too many different possible outcomes for even a foreseer to predict.

He was so caught up in his thoughts of the past that he failed to realize his hooves had carried him past the palace gates and into the surrounding city.

Without even realizing it he had turned to follow that odd buzzing in his very soul.

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Mel Sighed and suppressed the urge to cry. He sat alone in a small park in the city about an hour's walk from his home and he had hoped to avoid being seen by his family. It had been a long, hard and cold couple of nights. His father couldn't know he'd even had an interview with the head of Bardic. If Andrew ever found out and he wasn't safely tucked away under the watchful eyes of master Bards – well – his father would make every beating he'd ever endured up to this point seem like nothing.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands; it had been nearly five days since Bard Anika had given them their assignment. When she'd told them to choose a historical figure to write a song about, he'd swiftly chosen the most famous Herald in all of Valdemarian history – Herald Mage Vanyel. He'd figured there had to be enough information on the man in all the songs and ballads made about him for one desperate boy to put a song to music. But then Anika had handed out the last portion of their assignment. They were to be granted access to the palace student library for three days, during which time they needed to collect as much information on their historical figure as possible. After that they would have one week to compose a song about their historical figure to match the music.

It seemed so simple.

The only catch was that the song had to include a few little known facts about the person in question.

To make matters worse, when Bard Anika had tested them for the Bardic gift, she'd played a well know piece for them and then had them pick a ballad or song to play. For their assignment however she'd simply handed them each a sheet of music.

Problem was he couldn't read sheet music.

Hell he couldn't even read!

Andrew had seen to that, while his brothers had been enjoying the law that saw them going to the nearest temple for breakfast and instruction in reading, writing and figuring, he'd been locked in his room, or toiling in the kitchen of the little tavern Andrew owned. The man had been convinced since his birth that he was not his son. No matter how much his mother had argued and even pleaded that he simply looked like his grandmother. He'd still kept him from an education out of spite.

Now his father's spite had cost him dearly.

He couldn't read the sheet music and he most certainly couldn't read the many books in the library.

He was doomed.

He'd spent the three days in the library pretending to read the chronicles and hoping he'd find a picture or something, anything he could read that would inspire him. Predictably he'd found nothing!

Now he was sitting out here in the cold, shivering and hoping against hope that his long dead ancestor would pop up and tell him something about his life that wasn't already common knowledge.

Yah like that would ever happen!

Closing his eyes he bowed his head and suppressed tears of frustration.

The soft sound of chiming bells broke the tranquil stillness of the afternoon, but he was too lost in his own misery to look for the source of the bells.

That until someone spoke.

_:Child what is wrong?:_

The voice was masculine but oddly musical and colored with concern. For a moment he was too stunned to reply, particularly when he realized the voice was only in his head.

Was he going mad?

Lifting his head he gasped.

Standing in front of him was one of Valdemar's fabled Companions. He'd seen a few horses in his time, and he'd even seen a few Companions in passing over the years, but nothing compared to the sight of one up close.

The stallion's coat was such a beautifully iridescent shade of white that he seemed to glow with an inner light. Hellfires he made the snow look dirty!

He reached out one hand to touch the creature, but stopped. He was filthy, just an uneducated child from the lower district – what right did he have to touch such a creature?

To his utter astonishment the stallion lifted his head and touched his palm with the tip of his velvety nose.

_: Won't you tell me what's wrong little one? I may not yet have a Chosen of my own but I may still be able to help you. At least may I have the honor of your name? :_

Mel blinked, he supposed it would be far too much to hope for, but he'd kind of hoped the appearance of a Companion would mean the end of his pain and loneliness. However if he couldn't have the Heraldic Dream, he would settle for being one of the few who could say they'd had a conversation with a Companion. "I'm Mel," he said after a moment.

_: It is a pleasure to meet you Mel, I am Steffen. Will you please tell me what is wrong?: _Steffen replied.

So Mel told him starting slowly and ending in a rush.

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Steffen shifted from hoof to hoof as he listened to the boy's story. _: Vanyel, you chose Vanyel?: _He asked in mild amusement. He couldn't wait to tease Van about this. Even more then 500 years after the fact he couldn't escape his fame – it was damned amusing. However at least here he could help the child.

"Well it seemed like a good idea until she gave us the second part of the assignment." Mel replied somewhat defensively.

_: It was a good idea,: _Steffen replied mildly, still considering involving himself. After a moment he puffed out his sides in a horse's sigh. _: I happen to know a lot about Herald Vanyel, perhaps I can be of assistance, but first I want to get a look at that music. The light is failing though. You said you can't go home, do you have somewhere to stay?:_

The boy shook his head.

Steffen sighed, he couldn't leave the child out here, it was snowing, not heavily yet, and the fall had been light in this part of Valdemar for the past week, but still a storm was coming – he could not leave the child out here. However the boy wasn't his Chosen.

Oh well, he was a Companion, and if he wanted to he could share his warm stall with a child.

_: I do not Choose you,: _he said kindly,: however_, I would be grateful for your company. My friends are currently on circuit with their chosen or out on search. Come on, I would be happy to offer you someplace warm to wait for your test. I would also be happy to help you pass.:_

Mel gaped at him, "do you know how to read sheet music?"

_:I do.:_

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Steffen glanced down at the boy sleeping in the warm hay that lined his stall; Mel was curled up in a small ball, wrapped in his threadbare cloak. Steffen walked as quietly as possible over to the stable doors and snorted, the doors where closed against the cold winter wind with only a smaller servants door left unlatched. The door had been rigged so that they - The Companions of Valdemar - could let themselves in and out of the stables on nights like this one.

When the snow came down hard, heavy and bone-chillingly cold.

Deftly he pulled the string that opened the door and stepped outside. He had to use the privy. He was glad he'd somehow found himself in the park that afternoon. He didn't think the small child asleep in his stall would have survived the night left to his own devices.

It was a miracle he'd survived the last two.

The odd buzzing in his head returned the further he got from the boy. He shook his head and ignored the odd sensation.

Something about the boy confused him, he felt very familiar. He recognized the boy's lute; it had once belonged to his old roommate bard Medren. He would have recognized it even if it hadn't been in very much the same condition it had been in when he'd first meet the other bard. He knew that it had been a gift from Van. Just as he knew Van had bewitched it centuries ago.

He couldn't help wondering if maybe this child, Melody, was the reincarnation of his old friend. It would certainly explain the odd way the lute seemed to resonate with the boy.

A resonance that apparently hadn't been present when Mel had played for Master Bard Anika, using one of the Collegiums' lutes.

Steffen sighed as he let himself back into the warmth of the stove heated stables and made his way back to his stall. He'd spent the better part of the day working with Mel. It had only taken him a moment to recognize the music Bard Anika had assigned. It was one from his own time, and one he knew well. However it was not a song that Mel was familiar with so it had taken the better part of the day to teach him the fingering.

Particularly since he didn't have hands to demonstrate with

Tomorrow he would spend some time telling the boy tails of Herald-mage Vanyel.

This was going to be fun.

HOVKKMHOVKKM

Yozak glared at his mentor. They'd been snowed into this waystation for two weeks now and Koran just didn't know when to shut up. He was not lifebonded to Conrart damn it. Conrart was a prince, he deserved so much better then he could ever give him. Suppressing the urge to growl, he looked over at the other man, and sighed.

"Koran," he said softly. "Let it go. I'm not lifebonded to my best friend. I love him I'll give you that, but there is no way we can be lifebonded. It wouldn't be fair or right for Conrart."

He held up a hand for silence when Koran would have interrupted him there.

"Conrart was born into one of the richest, most powerful families in Shin Makoku, and his father – despite everything the Balar line has done to be rid of the Weller line, was a strong man. A good man, who took what little land he held and made it prosper. Conrart is the lord of the most fruitful wine land in the entirety of our world. He was the Captain of our king's personal guard before he was chosen. I- Koran, I'm nothing." He said, and then added. "Honestly I don't even have the right to approach him with an attempt at courtship. Do you have any idea how much of an insult it would be to Conrart and Conrart's family if a mere peasant soldier was to make a bid for Conrart's hand? Conrart would be nice about it, but his uncle, his uncle would kill me! And then he'd likely accuse Conrart of disgracing his mother's family."

Koren sighed, "You are, neither of you, still in Shin Makoku. You are both Heralds. Follow your heart Yozak. Ask him if he feels the same for you. At least admit your feelings. It will make you feel better and will unburden your soul."

Yozak snorted, he was through being nice. "Don't you think you are being hypocritical Koran? Or do you honestly think I didn't see how you looked at that young man?"

Koren blinked and raised an eyebrow. "Just what are you talking about?" he asked sharply.

"Kero's cousin." Yozak retorted. "You're head over heels for that young man."

"I think cabin fever has finally driven you mad." Koran retorted.

Yozak smirked, _looks like it's time for some ice cream._

_: Ice cream Chosen?: _Jissa inquired.

_: It's an earth confection King Yurri brought back to Shin Makoku in a tub of ice.: _he replied

_:?:_

_: if vengeance is sweet, revenge is a dish best served cold, and payback's a bitch, then logic dictates that reprisal is in fact Ice Cream.: _he replied mildly.

_: How do you figure?: _she asked after a pause that clearly meant she was questioning his sanity.

He shot her a smile. _: Ice cream is sweet, best served cold, and has a side effect when eaten to fast called a brain freeze, which is a bitch. :_

Jissa snorted and decided that this must be one of the many figures of speech her chosen had that she just didn't get.

Yozak's smirk however did not bode well for Koren's sanity.

_: It's time for Koren to realize he's shaych.: _Yozak told her flippantly.

_: Just try not to give the man a nervous breakdown, Chosen.: She replied at last._

Yozak gave her a mock salute. 

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Koren glared at Herald Yozak's back as the man rode down the road ahead of him. The last two weeks of their month long incarceration inside that little waystation with only six bats, and his Mandy to provide distraction from the other man's observations on his nonexistent love life, and his crush on Kero's cousin had been hell. The worst part was that the other man was right.

Not that he was going to admit to that.

But oh it would be so nice to be able to admit his feelings to Kre'esha.

There was nothing wrong with him, he knew that, but he couldn't help wondering what his father would say if the man ever found out he preferred men to women.

_: He'd probably say you were possessed Chosen, in addition to cursed.: Mandy told him gently. : And he would still be a bigoted idiot who couldn't tell his crest from his rump. Pay no heed to what that mo – man would think of you my Chosen. :_

Koren smiled and leaned forward to press his face into the mare's mane. _: Thank you lovely.:_

_: Tell Kre'esha how you feel Chosen, at the very least you would have gotten it out in the open.: _

He sighed, "Maybe you're right." He said aloud, and then leaning sideways out of his saddle, he scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a loose missile and lobbed it at Herald Yozak.

Thus starting the epic snow battle.

KKMHOVKKMHOV

_It was just a week till Sovven, `and the nights were turning chill_

_ And the battle turned to stalemate, double-bluff, and feint or drill _

_ When a shadow drifted northward, just a shadow, nothing more._

_No one noticed that the shadows all grew darker than before._

_No one noticed, while the shadows seemed to creep into the heart _

_But from then the quest for freedom seemed a fool's quest from the start._

Vanyel snorted in annoyance as he followed his musically aggravating Chosen across the vale, while the boy sung _Shadow Stalker, _at the top of his admittedly beautiful voice. He'd spent the better part of the last two days trying to convince Conrart to open up to Holly about what had happened on his 85th birthday and the boy was being obstinate about it.

Hence the current somewhat amusing rendition of the old ballad that told the tail of how he'd earned the name Shadow Stalker. Conrart had started with _Demonbane_ and was working his way through every annoying ballot ever written about him that he could remember.

_:Chosen.: _he said sharply trying to get the man to stop. _: That is really getting annoying,: _

Conrart stopped singing so he pressed on. _: You really need to talk to someone Chosen, you need help –:_

_ Herald Vanyel came upon them and he sensed a subtle wrong,_

_ And there was some magic working, deeply hidden, yes, but strong._

_ And it moved and worked in secret like a poison in the vein._

_ Like a poison meant to weaken, this was magic meant to drain._

_ Herald Vanyel saw the shadows and they turned their wiles on him_

Vanyel snorted, _Alright that was enough! _

_:Chosen, would you care to remind me why I put up with you? : _Vanyel asked sharply, he was joking – mostly.

Conrart jerked as if he'd been slapped, then cocked a hip. "Because I'm the only one who would preen you peacock!" he retorted sharply.

Vanyel made an undignified noise his ears cocking forward almost comically – then with a sharp toss of his head he shoved his chosen into the nearest hot water spring. He snorted and turned his head away in a manner reminiscent of an offended lady, as his chosen – sputtering – surfaced from under the water.

The jet of icy water – that should have been warm at lest – startled him to the point that he bolted forward like a surprised horse.

_: Damned demon water fountain!: _he said sharply.

Conrart climbed out of the spring with far more dignity then should have been possible given his current resemblance to a sopping wet cat, and replied calmly "good luck brushing yourself out – peacock."

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Vanyel leaned into each stroke of the curry comb as Conrart – now dry – brushed him until he shown like creature of pure moon light. He sighed and nuzzled the man's arm.

_:I love you, Chosen.: _he said gently, _: and I really do think you should talk to somebody about what happened. There is only so much I can do to help you. I am a Companion, not a human or a demon. If you will not talk to Holly, why not talk to Yozak?:_

Conrart sighed and leaned into him hiding his face in Vanyel's mane. "I can't, he'll hate me."

Vanyel sighed and nuzzled the boy; he just wasn't ready to face the truth of the past. _: Alright Chosen, but don't forget – any of the Heralds would willingly give you an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on if you where to ask for it.:_

_: I won't forget Van, but it is not something I can talk about.: _Conrart replied. _: If my uncle ever found out – well let's just say it wouldn't be pleasant.:_

Vanyel took in the images that rolled across their mental link, in silent horror. No wonder the boy refused to talk about what had happened – if he thought that was the consequence of his asking for help – well Van didn't blame him for keeping his mouth shut.

What made it even more horrifying was that Conrart, he was sure, hadn't even realized what he'd just let him see. He could feel the boy trembling beside him.

_: I'm here my Chosen, and no one is going to take you away from me.: _

His mane was soaked for the second time today – this time by tears.

HOVKKMHOVKKMHOVKKM

A.N.

Hi sorry about the long wait, school started, I had to move, and start a new job and then we had no internet. Anyway school is back so this might take a bit longer to update. But the good news is I am back with my fellow authors so this should start coming out a little more quickly… bad news is we're all science majors so… you get the idea. Anywho Conrad and Yozak should be back together soon.

Sambi Note:

Stop steeling all my sayings! The ice cream is mine!

Werewolf:

Then stop getting them stuck in my head, you stupid cat.

Werecat:

That's not exactly easy considering things get stuck in your head after hearing them ONCE.

Werewolf:

It's not my fault my mind is a steel trap for useless information.

Werecat:

Invest in WD40 you dumb dog.

Werewolf:

I hate you. And how exactly is that supposed to help? It's not a literal trap.

Werecat:

Love you too. Figure it out, 'cause as every college student knows all problems can be fixed with either WD40 or Duct Tape.

Werewolf:

I am not a broken part. And the chocolate is mine so stay out of it.

Werecat:

…whatever I don't like your chocolate anyways, it has nuts. And I didn't say you were broken, just stuck.

Werewolf:

o.0


	38. ow my head, stupid lifebond

Chapter 38: Ow my head, _Stupid lifebond_

Conrart shifted in his saddle, pushed the hem of his light cloak back from his shoulders, and gazed out at the snow covered ground beyond the safety of the vale's magical warmth. Outside the snow fell in soft fluffy flakes, inside the vale they fell as a warm rain. In a few minutes He and Holly would be making their way through the permanent gate to White Gryphon that had been established a few years ago in the old K'Sheyna Vale.

Here it was a bit on the wet side, even if the rain was warm. White Gryphon however, was too far to the south and west to get snow. Holly had warned him that it would be warmer when they got there – hence the light weather cloak he was currently wearing. Hopefully once they got there he could take it off.

He watched quietly as Holly opened the gate. She'd once told him not to worry about his own lack of magic, because when he was running this circuit on his own – there would always be a mage in the vale somewhere to open a gate for him. He'd thanked her for the reassurance; however it wasn't until Van reminded him that he could open a gate for them that he relaxed. He'd forgotten that all Vanyel needed to work a spell was the free use of his hands.

_: It's time Chosen.: _Vanyel said gently, calling him out of his thoughts.

Conrart smiled, patted the stallion's proudly arched crest, and braced himself for the sickening sensation of vertigo that always accompanied gating. It was all that was left of Vanyel's once debilitating sensitivity to gate energy. With how tight their bond to each other was it was impossible to shield the feeling out.

What he didn't expect was the excruciating pain that followed the gate closing behind them.

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Yozak laughed; amused by the rather raunchy joke Koren had just told him. He couldn't help the exuberance he felt at the knowledge that he would soon be home. They had just under a month left in their circuit. He couldn't wait to get back. He couldn't wait to see his friends. He'd have to wait a full 6 months to see Conrart again – but that couldn't be helped the man was busy being Heraldic.

He was about to reply when he was hit with an excruciatingly painful emptiness. He hadn't felt anything like it for years! Not since the last time Conrart had visited earth.

Somehow it was worse this time.

He screamed, doubling over from the pain and clutching at his temples.

Shinou it hurt.

What was going on?

Why couldn't he reach Conrart?

Was the other man alive?

Was he hurt?

"Conrart, be okay – please." He whimpered as his world went black.

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Herald Holly gazed down at the prone form of Herald Conrart. She'd been forced to knock him out earlier. She winched remembering his blood curdling screams after the gate closed. She'd tried desperately to get his attention, but had been unable to.

At the time the one coherent sound coming out of his mouth had been a name.

'Yozak.'

He'd been screaming for Herald Yozak.

He still seemed to be in pain, since his was brow creased and he moaned even in sleep. She'd spoken with Rohanan, and her companion believed that what had happened was due to the fact that Conrart's lifebond was still unacknowledged. Apparently Conrart's bond to Yozak had been stretching progressively thinner.

Each timed they'd gated, Conrart had been subjected to increasing pain, until he'd been living with a never ending and increasingly painful headache, from the time they'd left K'Teva vale.

According to Vanyel, Conrart would be fine but he would likely need reassurance that his 'best friend' was alive and well.

She sighed; she was going to have to get him to acknowledge his lifebond. The sooner the better it seemed.

Reaching out with a small finger of magic, she lifted the sleep spell she'd placed on him. He bolted up into a sitting position his shoulders heaving, before doubling over and clutching his temples – squeezing his eyes shut. The furniture groaned and slid a few centimeters to the left before he got himself under control.

He looked up at her then, and flinched, quickly closing his eyes again. "V -" he paused and tried again, keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Van says Yozak is fine, that I'd know if he died. But I can't feel him. Shinou, I'm so empty."

Holly raised an eyebrow. "Why are you squeezing your eyes shut?" she asked after a second, deciding to deal with what she could for now and deal with the obvious repercussions of his unacknowledged lifebond as soon as the immediate issue was handled.

"Hurts." Conrart replied softly.

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Koren groaned as he watched Yozak throw himself into his work. After the other man's fit two weeks ago, they'd been forced to return to the capital with all haste. The relatively younger Herald had been in a daze for almost a week and Mandy confirmed that Jissa had spent the better part of that week assuring her chosen that she could still feel Vanyel through the web that connected all Companions and their Heralds. She'd assured him that if Vanyel was still alive so was Conrart.

He and the rest of the circle were deeply worried about the man. He'd been throwing himself into his work since snapping out of his torpor. Koren was worried that the man wasn't getting enough sleep, and he rarely saw him in the dining hall if he saw him at all.

The circle and her Royal Highness Queen Selany had decided while they were out that they wanted all Heralds to take a class on basic Demonic customs and language – since apparently there were more ways to proverbially step in it with the Mazoku then there were ways to worship in Valdemar. For now the Heraldic Circle had Yozak teaching both the new courses on Mazoku language and Mazoku Customs in an effort to keep his mind off of the severely strained and still largely unacknowledged lifebond to Herald Conrart.

In addition to that he did just about anything else he could manage.

Koren sighed and turned away from his friend and headed down for lunch himself, maybe if he could have a word with some of the other man's friends he could stage an intervention. However, if the bags under Yozak's eyes where any indication he'd have to move fast – before the man worked himself to death.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Herald Holly smiled sadly, she hated to say it but she was worried about Conrart. After she'd lifted the sleep spell he'd spent several days in a daze induced by the blinding headache he'd been suffering from. The healers and healing mages had been unable to fathom the cause behind his unusual reoccurring case of backlash. In the end it had been Vanyel who had figured out both the cause and how to fix it.

It turned out that while Herald Conrart was in full control of all of his gifts; his bond to Herald Yozak was another matter all together. The boy had been inadvertently trying to reestablish the connection between him and Herald Yozak, the end result being his recurring case of backlash.

Vanyel had been forced to interpose himself between Conrart and the mental and spiritual bond to Yozak.

According to Rohanan, even Vanyel wasn't sure how long ago the lifebond had started forming between the two. However the stallion did know that the bond itself was at least 32 years old. In her experience lifebonds tended to form only after both parties had entered puberty, and if everything she'd ever read was any indication – they tended to start at first sight.

Now the boy was throwing himself into his duties.

And that worried her far more then she would have been had the boy simply been a moping and inconsolable, irritable and anxious mess. That at least would have been consistent with the behavior most often found in persons with an unacknowledged lifebond.

But no Conrart was throwing himself nose first into his work with a single minded, pigheadedness that was more in line with his own personality. Unfortunately it also meant that he was neglecting the simple but important things.

Like eating and sleeping.

He paid almost obsessive attention to Vanyel's needs while utterly ignoring his own unless he was forced to acknowledge them.

The boy looked like hell.

She'd resorted to knocking him out last night after he'd stumbled back into their shared quarters at four in the morning looking like the walking dead.

It had to stop.

She didn't know what to do – if he continued like this he'd be useless as a Field Herald. According to Vanyel, Conrart wasn't the type to drown his problems in a bottle of liquor; however she almost wished he was. It was a lot easier to stop him from drowning himself in a drink then it was to stop him from drowning his problems in his heraldic duties.

She had to figure out a way to stop him – before he worked himself to death.

There was no other choice; she was going to have to inform the circle of what was going on with her internee. If he was lucky they'd find a way to fix this without sending him home.

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Mel smiled as he looked around his new room in the Bardic Collegium. He couldn't have gotten this far without the aid of the Companion Steffen. Idly he wondered how the stallion had known so much about the legendary Herald-mage. The Companion seemed to know intimate details that no one but Vanyel himself and possibly a select few should have known.

It made him wonder

Could Steffen be _the_ Stefen?

He dismissed it almost as soon as he'd considered it. The idea was … utterly ridiculous.

The dinner bell tolled interrupting his thoughts; he rose to his feet and left his room to meet his friends in the hallway. He followed the other 2 boys and the one lone girl, down to the Heralds' mess silently reminding himself to snag an apple or three for the Companion that had made this all possible.

In the two weeks since his admittance, he'd made friends and was slowly but surely learning to read write and figure. He knew that his parents had been informed of his acceptance – still he worried about his mother. He knew Andrew would be pissed at the prospect of him making something of himself.

He'd begged the dean not to do anything about the fact that Andrew had deigned him an education – but she hadn't listened. So now he was silently worrying about his mother facing Andrew's wrath – and wondering when the man would get his revenge for the humiliation he had caused him.

Not to mention the steep fine the man's violation of the law had resulted in.

Halfway through their meal, his friend Jedric suddenly fell silent in the middle of a sentence, and seconds latter a deep toned bell began to toll solemnly. All around him students in grey, and White clad Heralds fell silent and lowered their eyes in respect.

The silence was deafening, as the few non-heralds followed suit.

Then as one every Herald in the room rose and walked slowly out in a sea of white and gray. They seemed to huddle together as if seeking comfort as they silently left.

"What was that?" Mel asked once the last of the White and Gray clad 'Chosen' had slipped silently out the door – including Jedric, the boy's normally boundless cheerfulness silenced by the bells tolling.

Elizabeth glanced over at him, fiddling with the hem of her light green uniform, before replying in a soft voice. "The Death Bell, it means a herald has died." She paused before adding "Jed was chosen a year ago but his gift is strong and his connection to Terrence is apparently stronger than usual. He likely felt it just like a full Herald would have."

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Yozak sighed as he leaned his head against the nearest wall, he was exhausted and the recent death of Herald Edmond wasn't helping, not when he was being battered by emotions every time he lowered his shields. The grief floating through the Herald's wing of the palace was thick enough to plow. To make matters worse - he missed Conrart to the point that his very absence had become a burning ache in his heart and soul. It was as if a part of his very being had gone missing.

He couldn't stand it.

He felt so empty.

Without Conrart –

He just wasn't Yozak anymore.

He was a shadow.

_Norowa reta tamashī_

The term was normally applied to Mazoku who'd so badly disgraced themselves that they'd severed their contract – or to half-breeds. It meant 'Damned Soul'. He'd never really listened to the name. To him a half-breed who'd never had a contract; it had been just that – a term. But now, now he understood.

He would sooner lose all of his senses then lose the contract between his soul and the element he was bound to. However it was the closest thing he could compare the emptiness to and without Jissa's reassurance that Conrart was fine he thought he might have sought the final piece that only the air itself could provide his spirit.

He was of the air and one day would return to it.

That was why the Mazoku looked down at half-breeds. Their beliefs where simple – when you died your body returned to the earth and your soul returned to the element that had birthed it. A demon with no contract was barred from that final rest.

Doomed to wander forever lost – a damned soul.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Herald Mage Elspeth sighed as she gazed into the Telshion's glossy surface. In truth she was not – exactly surprised by Herald-mage Holly's report on the current state of Herald Conrart. How could she be when Herald Yozak was little better?

"There's no doubt about it." she said after a second, "they are defiantly lifebonded."

Holly's image on the telsion groaned, and Elspeth watched as the woman rubbed her brow. "So what do we do? Conrart's in no shape to continue on this way. He's going to kill himself if something isn't done soon. Damn it Vanyel has to force the boy to see to his own needs and I've resorted to knocking him out at night. The Haratsi are pretty helpful with that they've actually taken to spiking his tea just to get him to sleep."

Elspeth was about to reply when Holly continued. "I suppose, there's nothing for it, I'll have to send Conrart back to Haven."

Elspeth sighed, "I don't believe so. Up until now neither Conrart nor Yozak has flinched at their duty despite the vast distance that separates them. When most men would turn to other means to handle the pain caused by the painful stretching of an unacknowledged lifebond both Conrart and Yozak have simply thrown their entire selves into their duty. Gwena tells me that all the two need is tangible evidence of the other's wellbeing. Fetch Conrart and I shall fetch Yozak. If they are given the opportunity to see each other again they should be fine."

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Conrart blinked in surprise when Holly seemed to simply appear beside him. For the most part he was used to Yozak being the only person who could sneak up on him. One developed an overly sensitive sense of where people where when one's life was constantly in danger. The fact that his best friend was a spy had only added to his hyperawareness. So the fact that he hadn't noticed Holly until she grabbed his arm and attempted to lead him off somewhere was a bit of a shock.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he was dragged along with her.

"To see Herald Yozak," Holly replied flatly.

At the sound of his best friend's name his heart began to race.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Yozak gazed into the piece of smooth glass in front of him and watched as a Herald he'd never met shoved Conrart (rather roughly in his opinion) into a chair.

: _Holly, Herald-mage Holly;: _Jissa informed him mildly, _: She's Conrart's mentor.:_

Yozak forced down the urge to protect his friend from the woman manhandling him. Silently he reminded himself that A) Conrart was on the other side of the bloody world and B) she wasn't hurting him - exactly - just making him sit.

Conrart looked like hell, and truthfully Yozak knew he didn't look much better.

Conrart looked up then, his brown eyes looked haunted like he had seen and lived through too much. His body was young and strong despite his exhaustion, but in his eyes Yozak could see his true age, and all of the hardships the other man had endured. The only other time he'd seen Conrart look so broken was after the war. After the death of his friend Julia and so many of their brother's in arms.

And even that didn't compare.

No Yozak realized the closest he'd ever seen Conrart come to this exact state was when he'd returned home late one night three months after Conrart's 85th birthday. He remembered how truly and completely exhausted Conrart had looked that night – or rather early morning – when he'd crawled into bed with him.

Conrart hadn't been sleeping well then and it didn't look like he was sleeping well now.

After a second Conrart seemed to notice him and his exhausted brown eyes widened in quiet surprise; "Yozak," he whispered.

"Hey," Yozak replied softly. "You look like death warmed over Con, when was the last time you slept?"

Conrart covered his mouth as he yawned, "Can't really remember, but that doesn't matter. When was the last time you ate Yoz?"

Yozak chuckled softly, "Jissa made sure I ate a bit this morning. It was rather funny actually. I thought I was the one who was supposed to bring her apples. Instead she cornered me in the gardens and would not let me leave until I'd eaten the apple she'd dropped into my hand." He smiled softly, "nice to know I'm loved though."

Conrart just laughed.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Conrart walked quietly beside Holly, he felt oddly lighter somehow – as if someone had reached out and pulled the world off of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry" he said softly, once he realized Holly had asked him a question. "What was that? I must have been wool gathering."

Holly laughed softly and opened the door to the rather spacious quarters they shared with the 3 heralds currently assigned to White Gryphon. He followed her inside, past the common room and down the hall. It took him a moment to figure out where they were going, but once he realized it he flushed in embarrassment.

"Get some sleep Conrart." Holly told him firmly as she opened the door to his bedroom. "We'll talk in the morning."

Conrart arched a brow, "Holly it's only noon." He replied mildly, stifling a yawn.

"Bed." She told him firmly as if talking to an errant five year old.

He gave her an incredulous look. "But I'm not sleepy," he protested weakly; a yawn marking him as a liar.

Holly raised an eyebrow at his weak protest and pointed firmly at his bed.

With a sigh he obliged her, not because he was tired – but because he knew she was just as stubborn as Yozak.

"I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning." Holly told him firmly as he crawled into his warm, cozy, and oh so inviting bed, sliding one hand beneath his pillows and curling his fingers around the armband he'd stolen from Yozak's rooms. He could have told her that he was skilled enough to see to it that she didn't see him –

- but he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Yozak sighed and looked down at the plate in front of him. Koren was insisting that he eat something again.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

A.N. here you go another chapter, with another one to follow soon. Please review. Give our muse a cup of joe and a kick in the pants. It also makes us want to edit more so we can post the chapters we've written. Review please. Let me know if we're boring you.


	39. The young and the idiotically suicidal

A.N: This chapter is for **Serinity Dawn**, hang in there, you have our best wishes, feel better soon.

Chapter 39: The young and the idiotically suicidal.

Conrart smiled to himself from his place in the tall grass atop the prestigious cliff face that formed one of the vast wings of the city. He had a roll of paper and a charcoal stick in his hand and was carefully sketching the sight before him. Two young Gryphons where playing together on the wind. "I wonder what it's like to fly," he said quietly to the stallion, who was rarely far from his side – particularly now.

Vanyel snorted in amusement. _:That I wouldn't know my chosen, but come it is time for the meeting.: _

Conrart sighed and somewhat reluctantly climbed to his feet, folded the bit of paper and tucked it into his shirt. Then with all the grace of a born rider turned fully trained Herald he swung lightly onto Vanyel's bare back. Vanyel waited only long enough for Conrart to find his balance before launching himself forward into a full Companion's gallop, headed straight for the edge of the cliff.

At the last possible second he veered sharply to the right and galloped down the broad path carved into the stone face ages ago. Still going full speed he twisted around like a ferret and flung himself to the side veering off the 'road' and down onto a much smaller track used only to make repairs to the path above their heads. It was a narrow trek and Vanyel only just fit, his hooves sent tiny pebbles cascading down the cliff face as he whipped around a particularly tight turn.

Despite himself Conrart cried out in alarm, clinging to Vanyel's bare back for dear life, however as the stallion executed another wild yet oddly controlled tight turn he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He let out a whoop of joy as his hair fanned out behind him in the wind and Vanyel's mane lashed at his face. He shifted his balance instinctively as Vanyel threw himself into the air to land on yet another narrow ridge.

One Conrart recognized at that.

Just last week two young – incredibly foolish –stags had died here.

Doing exactly what Conrart and Vanyel where doing - Racing_ the wind _Vanyel had called it and the part of Conrart's mind not too busy whooping in adrenaline induced exhilaration dubbed it _idiotically suicidal. _Particularly since a stag's feet and gate where better designed for the Cliffside then Vanyel's could ever be.

However as Vanyel rounded yet another turn Conrart felt that part of himself slip away.

Somewhere in his mind he heard the collective voices of his friends telling him to relax and enjoy life, to ignore his responsibilities and the weight of the world – if only for an hour or two and remember that he was still technically young.

So with Vanyel's hooves flying below him and his heart racing, Conrart lost himself in the feeling of being one with his Companion, and for the first time in 50 some odd years allowed himself to act on his youth. Vanyel pivoted tightly, somehow avoiding a spot on the small trek that should have sent them both careening to their deaths, with all the grace of a dancer.

The logical part of Conrart's mind registered that it was the exact spot that had sent the two racing youngsters plummeting to their deaths, before the wind, the exhilaration, and the thundering of Van's hooves so in tune with his own thundering heart stole the thought away.

Abruptly Conrart came back to himself as he realized that Vanyel had changed directions again, and was headed up rather than down. He also realized that Vanyel was headed straight for a dead end.

Well not quite

There was always the landing platform but it was quite a ways away, with a deadly drop separating them from the platform. "Van Stop!" he shrieked with mind and voice as soon as he realized Vanyel was about to take the jump.

Van kept going, and Conrart felt the stallion gathering himself.

Then they were airborne

It was terrifying

And exhilarating

In the space of a few seconds that seemed to span an eternity they simply hung in the air the world sprawling out below them. Conrart couldn't help it – he whooped – a fierce joy and exhilaration at life rising in his breast. Around him the miniscule droplets of water carried by the air rejoiced at his presence – and he felt his own soul sing in response.

Vanyel's hooves hit the ground with a clatter of bells on stone, to the astonished whistling of the Gryphons on the platform.

Conrart couldn't help marveling at his extraordinary Companion. He didn't think any horse he'd ever ridden could have made that jump let alone make it without breaking his stride as Van had. Vanyel hadn't even stumbled when he landed; he'd simply pivoted around and taken off down the spiraling pathway leading back down the pillar like platform.

Conrart shifted his weight minutely as Vanyel turned, presenting the smallest bit of himself to the wind, easily matching his Companion.

They were one

He couldn't tell where Vanyel ended and he began.

Vanyel galloped through the streets so far below their starting point with an ease and grace, neatly avoiding the traps and pitfalls that could so easily befall a horse or person running headlong through a populated area, until he reached the coast.

He didn't even break his stride but simply plowed straight in until the surf sloshed against his sides and Conrart felt drunk with the power and vastness of the sea.

The largest body of water he'd seen since his choosing.

Something he hadn't seen since he'd left Shin Makoku before contracting with his element. The faint buzzing he'd always heard in presence of the vast expanse of salt water shifted and became a song.

Idly he wondered if this was what Vanyel had felt like all those years ago, when he'd still been human every time he'd come in contact with a major node.

_: it is, now little one I think it is time you learned to swim.: _Vanyel said lightly before giving a small half buck and sidled just slightly to the side dumping his startled rider.

Conrart hit the water with a splash and didn't even bother trying to find his feet; instead he just rolled over and allowed himself the luxury of floating. He spat a small stream of water up into his Companion's face as he drifted by giggling when Vanyel dropped his muzzle into the salt water and splashed him in return with a small flick of his head.

"Herald Conrart!" Holly yelled from the shoreline, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Conrart glanced over at the council gathered on the shore and found he honestly didn't care what they thought at the moment. Turning his head he glanced up at Vanyel, "Can we do that again?" he asked still giggling almost manically.

"Conrart, act your age," Holly reprimanded sharply from her place on the shore.

Conrart giggled, at that moment he just couldn't help it – "I am acting my age." He retorted cheekily.

"No you're acting like you wish to achieve your death through suicidal idiocy!" Holly replied crossly.

"You have only just proved his point, Holly," a man Conrart had never met before said calmly. "He is what 18 – 19 winters old at most? Boys are all convinced of their immortality to the point of being suicidal at that age."

Conrart sighed, much as he wanted to simply float there and revel in the power flowing through the sea's waters, he had a duty to perform. Slowly, gracefully, and most reluctantly he made his way out of the water, with Vanyel at his side.

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Herald Kerowyn sighed as she stood beside her lifebonded lover in the courtyard of Blood Pledge Palace. Sayvil and Ratha stood quietly beside them as they watched the hustle and bustle of King Yuri's guards. The young king had decided he wanted to go for a pleasure ride and, as was predictable, several lesser nobles had decided their attendance on this trip was mandatory. The boy sighed and made his way over to her, in an obvious attempt to put some distance between himself and his guards.

"It's times like these that I really miss Conrad." He said mildly. "It was nice to simply say let's go for a ride and only have Wolfram tagging along. Conrad could usually get us saddled up and on our way out before the others had a chance to react."

Kero smiled at the young king amused by the mental image of the boy fleeing his guards and the attentions of his general population. "If you're referring to Conrart, then I agree with you the man is uncommonly swift when it comes to saddling up his mount – even for a Herald."

The boy smiled, "I'm sorry if I confused you." He replied. "But I've always called my Godfather, Conrad."

"Not a problem, so where exactly are we going?"

Yuri laughed, "nowhere in particular, but there is a lovely little forest two hours ride from here, at an easy walk, that I've been meaning to explore, however I've never had the chance – and Conrart never really seemed inclined to going. Which is rather odd – he's always up for an adventure."

"Don't think too much about it," Elden told him mildly "we all have our quarks, and I am sure Conrart has his reasons." He paused before adding, "and you had best mount up my lord, it seems we will be leaving shortly."

The boy smiled up at him before heading off in the direction of the beautiful black gelding being held by one of the stable hands.

Kerowyn smiled and swung gracefully up into Sayvil's saddle, her movements perfectly synchronized with Elden's in a beautifully natural choreography. She watched King Yuri mounted his horse with considerably less grace then Conrart had years ago when she'd first evaluated his skill as a horseman. She suppressed a laugh, and wondered who had been the king's teacher and how bad he'd been before he'd been taught.

There was something to be said for natural horsemanship verses learned skill, however it was obvious that the young kings current skill was all taught. Idly she wondered if the boy had fallen off on his first several attempts.

They set off a few minutes later riding on the outskirts of the mob congregated around the young king, and Kerowyn couldn't help noticing the man riding nearest the boy. If memory served his name wasGwilherm. He was a handsome well built man who looked to be in his mid twenties, his raven hair was pulled back into a short tail that only just brushed the base of his neck, and his almond shaped green eyes set into a perfectly chiseled face lent him the appearance of a hero from a tale. But there was something about those eyes.

_: Watch him Chosen,: _Sayvil informed her mildly, _:there is something about that one that sends a shiver down my spine.: _

Kero nodded minutely. _: I see what our daemonling meant when he said we would be amazed by how innocent the King of the Mazoku is. The boy seems –quite – naïve. :_

As they'd been speaking Kero noticed Sayvil weaving her way easily through the assembled nobles, until she kept an easy pace with Ao Yuri's mount, a moment later Ratha drew up beside them, and she nodded calmly to Elden.

Yuri offered them a small smile and a few minutes of idle conversation before Lord Wolfram butted in with his paranoid shouts of "Cheater!" Yuri grinned sheepishlyin apology and turned his attention to the blond haired young pretty the young prince was convinced his 'fiancé' was going to cheat on him with anything in a skirt.

Beside her Elden laughed, _: I don't think, Lord Wolfram need worry.: _he told her flippantly in mindspeach. _: you are old enough to be their mother, after all.:_

_: You are sleeping alone tonight.:_Kerowyn retorted mildly offended by Elden's comment, Wolfram was after all at least was not old enough to be his mother!

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After a good three and a half hours of riding they'd come to a small sheltered forest glen. It was lovely but the topography was a little weird. King Yuri apparently had decided to stop and spend some time here. His daughter, Princess Greta (who looked scarcely a year his junior) had already dismounted and was exploring the odd layout.

Elden couldn't help noticing the way the 'old growth' grew around the younger plants in a perfect circle; it was downrightunnatural and reminded him of 'White Foal Pass' or the 'Forest of Sorrows' in Valdemar. Places were the land had been altered by Heraldic magic. He shuddered and placed his open palm on the scared trunk of one tree. The scarring started a good two feet over his head and continued up a good six feet. Idly Elden wondered just what could have caused the deep claw-like gouges.

Ratha turned without prompting and began to follow the gouges in the old growth; he glanced over at Sayvil and Kero who were just behind them. "What could have caused a circle of destruction 60 yards wide, here?" He asked quietly once they'd ridden the circle's circumference.

"These people are all elementals;although their power varies based on the individual, I suspect the most likely cause to be a youngling of substantial power, who lost control of their gifts." Kero replied mildly.

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_: That, or a traumatized baby Herald.:_echoed softly down her bond to Sayvil so softly the Herald- Captain wasn't sure she'd even heard it.

Kerowyn sighed as she, Elden and their Companions turned and headed back towards the small glen. They came out of the relatively young secondary growth forest a few minutes later. She glanced around the glen at the mass of nobles milling around, only a few had ventured out of the shade provided by the trees.

Yuri, Greta, Lord von Voltaire, Queen Cecilia and four young lords Kerowyn had had little interaction with, but disliked none the less, weredown by a small river. Lord Odalis Gwilherm and his friends Lord Izo Lodewijk, Lord Eckhart Bhaltair, and Lord Waldo Baudewijn lingered a good 5yards away from the royal family. The four men were giving each other odd looks – like they were sharing a private joke.

Kerowyn shifted her position in Sayvil's saddle, as she surveyed the young lords. The four were what she'd come to see as 'typical' specimens of the Mazoku male. In the few months she'd been is Shin Makoku she'd come to see that the men came in three varietiesthe 'pretty boy', the 'muscle bound' and an oddly beautiful mixture of the two.

Lord Odalis Gwilherm for example, was a slightly shorter, more muscular, black-haired andgreen-eyed version of Yozak; while his friend Lodewijk, had a face that was slightly thinner than usual, with beautiful blue-gray eyes. He had the 'common soldier' build, and his crimson hair was full and thick, and styled so that his thick collar length bangs framed his face while the rest of it was slicked back and gathered into a short tail with a strip of purple, velvet ribbon that perfectly accented his long coat. Bhaltair was notable for his toned build, nape-length, windswept dirty blond hair, and silvery-blue eyesthat harmonized perfectly with his two tailed blue on blue embroidered coat. His not so purely ornamental carved mahogany knob cane bore a silver cap, and he walked with a distinct limp. The last of them, Bouldewijn, favored the other extreme, being effeminate enough to make Lord Wolfram look masculine. He was tall, being mostly leg, and wore his silver hair longer than any of his friends, so that it fell to mid back, a single lock falling forward to obscure his piercing green eyes.

There was something unsettling about those too innocent eyes.

Beyond that he carried an air of cold professionalism, which his friends lacked. His red, silk lined velvet, double tailed jacket bore black cuffs trimmed in silver. It marked him as being at least somewhat important.

Kerowyn cleared her throat once she'd reached the four snickering men. They looked up at her and she felt something she hadn't felt for a very long time.

She felt like a lamb at market.

She hadn't felt like _that_ since she'd first held the gees-blade Need and her grandmother's best-friend and shield sister,Tarma, had started training her to use the sword.

She didn't like or appreciate the feeling.

Kero smiled, forcing down her discomfort and tucked her toes a bit closer to Sayvil's flanks – silently seeking comfort from the presence of her beloved Companion. "Would you mind sharing the joke?"

The four men turned and glanced up at her. For a moment they said nothing before Gwilherm offered her a small almost charming smile and replied, "we had a lot of fun here one Beltaine night, a long time ago by how human's recon time. It's interesting to see how much the land has changed since the last time we were here."

Bhaltair shifted his weight and leaned a bit more heavily on his cane. "A lot has changed since that Beltane," he added with an air of lament, "last time I was here, this was purely ornamental." He gestured almost sadly at the beautiful cane.

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Mel laughed and pulled his russet cloak a bit closer to his slender shoulders, tomorrow was midwinter, and he was enjoying his time away from his studies. He still had daily meetings with Bard Brendan as the man worked at getting him ready to join the rest of the bardic students when they returned from the winter holiday. In honor of the mid winter festivities he and his friends had decided to spend the day out on the town as soon as he'd escaped his reading lessons.

So now the four of them were wondering through the streets of Haven, having a grand time going to the different shops. They were planning to stop by one of the many taverns later that night for dinner. Jedrik's Companion Terrence had chosen to stay in the comfort of Companion's field and the special stable that had been made for the Companions.

Mel smiled as they came upon a stall that sold silk scarves. There was nothing there that they could actually afford so they probably wouldn't be staying long. Still they were beautiful and he wished he could afford one to give to his mother.

One day he would, as soon as he got his scarlets, he would buy his mother one of those scarves.

For now though they would have to move on. They all still needed to pick up their last minute gifts, and it was getting late. He'd already found something for Jedric, it wasn't much just a small copper trinket shaped like a horse. Honestly he wasn't sure what to do for midwinter gifts, this was the first time he'd had friends to share it with. He'd always gotten something small for his mother, however beyond that he had no experience. To make matters worse, he had very little in the way of money.

They made their way through several shops – occasionally purchasing something, occasionally just browsing. He'd found a nice lute strap for Markus, and was trying desperately to find something to give Elizabethwhen a voice he'd hoped never to hear again rang out across the shop.

"Father," he whispered, just as the man backhanded him with enough force to send him to the ground.

Instinctively he curled up into a tight ball and tried to protect his head and shoulders. Andrew probably wouldn't kill him, simply out of a well founded fear of the law. However the man's words rang in his ears as he lay curled on the floor trying to placidly accept his beating without making a sound. He was too afraid to even make sense of his friend's frantic shouts.

"They wouldn't do nothing to me for killing ya boy. They wouldn't care 'bout me killing worthless scum off the street like you." Andrew snarled in-between kicks.

Abruptly the blows stopped and Mel felt a presence looming over him.

"What the hell!" Andrew's voice was thick with a near mad rage. "Get out of the way boy!"

"Stop it Now!" Jedric's voice cut through his fear and the ringing in his ears. "In the name of the Queen and by the authority of her Heralds I order you to stop!"

The Boy spoke with all the authority of his office, and Mel opened his eyes just in time to see his father send Jedric – who was all of 13 – flying a few feet across the store, where the other boy crashed into a display case. He moaned but didn't get up.

Andrew glared down at him for a moment before he spoke "stay there boy, I'll deal with you after I punish your impudent li'l friend 'ere." That said the man turned and advanced on Jedric.

Elizabeth, shaking like mad, quickly stepped between her bestfriend and Mel's advancing father. Mel moaned and glanced around in time to see Marcus slip out of the shopand run off down the street. He had no idea where the shop keeper was, or even the other patrons. All he knew was that Andrew wouldn't hold back against Elizabeth, in fact Andrew would likely take a perverse pleasure in 'teaching her respect.'

It took every ounce of his strength to climb to his feet. He staggered forward, and put himself firmly between his father and his friends. He had to protect them. The next few minutes passed as a haze of frantic voices, a rain of blows and a general miasma of pain.

Then there was a sound like bells striking wood.

And suddenly Steffen was there, trumpeting his rage at the top of his voice, hooves flailing as he forced Andrew back. Mel crawled to his hands and knees and took in the scene. A white clad herald was currently binding Andrew's wrists behind his back. Across the room Terrence was standing guard over his Chosen. Minutes later Marcus came rushing back into the shop with – the guard.

Graceful as a dancer Steffen turned around, lowered his head, looked at him out of sky blue eyes, and Mel fell. Fell into a sea of love and devotion as Steffen changed his life one more time.

This time by choosing him.


	40. Massage Misadventures

Chapter 40: Massage Misadventures

Ambermoon sighed as he watched Herald Holly's retreating back. He couldn't believe he'd let her talk him into this. He was leaving White Griffon in the next month and traveling to Valdemar's capital city of Haven, where he would stay for at least the next decade. So why had he agreed to take on a new client when he was busy trying to find other Kestra'cherns to take on his current clientele?

Simply put because from everything his old friend had told him the young Herald needed help. He didn't know what had happened to the boy in his life but what he'd heard … well it inflamed his drive to help.

Well… at least he knew he'd be able to practice his trade in Haven.

Even if his only client was a single oddly scared Herald who came to him for an open ear and the occasional massage to lower his stress – at least he was still answering to his calling. Like a healer who couldn't turn a blind eye to a small child with a broken bone, he couldn't turn a blind eye to mental and emotional pain.

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Yozak cursed venomously in the language he'd known since birth. The human tongue, with the cant he'd never - quite- lost, sounded guttural and harsh in comparison with his more frequently used Mazoku –jin. He was utterly disgusted. The child he'd picked up earlier had been too thin for one who'd been at the collegiums for a few weeks and small for his age to boot. The bruising the healer's had revealed when they'd stripped the newly Chosen boy of his russet red uniform made him sick.

Child abuse (at least in the physical sense) was rather uncommon in Shin Makoku. That was not to say that child abuse never happened, it was just the fact that their species was so long lived that most people didn't have children without completely contemplating the ramifications of that choice; particularly since the choice committed them to the care of that child for the better part of a century. Children where looked at as a gift in his culture and the thought of anyone hurting one – well it just wasn't done.

Sure he had suffered verbal and emotional abuse for being a 'filthy half-breed' but no one had ever raised a hand to him.

He didn't understand this.

How could anyone abuse their own child?

Children were precious, gifts from Shinou, it made no sense.

Furious he screamed his rage as he drew his sword and attacked the pels again and again, trying vainly to diffuse some of it, and expend his penned up energy before he lost control of the gift that allowed him to hold sway over his element.

No one would thank him if he caused a tornado after all.

The sound of steel striking steel rang through the sallie, and Yozak looked up to find Tykir standing before him blocking his sword, with his own. He blinked and stood there for a moment too stunned to move. He then pulled his blade away, nodded and stepped back waiting for Tykir to engage him.

What followed was almost cathartic.

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Conrart glared at Holly, he was _not _going to go see a Kestra'chern! Damn it, there was no way in hell he was going to go see one of those – those…

He didn't know what

But he still wasn't going to see one.

Over his dead and convulsing body was he going _anywhere _near one of them!

_: Chosen, you do know Silverfox is a Kestra'chern. : _Vanyel informed him mildly.

"Silverfox doesn't count," he replied obstinately, ignoring the twitching lips of the other Heralds in the room. _"He's Firesong's mate."_

_:Firesong's … mate or not he's still a Kestra'chern Chosen. : _Vanyel replied mildly trying vainly to sound divinely wise or something.

Conrart crossed his arms over his chest and turned his nose up in an alarming imitation of his younger brother. "You're supposed to be on my side."

He got the mental impression that Vanyel would be raising his eyebrow if he could. _: I am on your side Chosen. : _After a moment the stallion added, _: but you need help. :_

"Not that type of help!" Conrart snapped, not sure who he was more annoyed with, Holly for bringing it up, or Vanyel for pressing the issue. The other Heralds where coming in a close second with their not so very well suppressed giggles. Honestly why couldn't they all just leave him alone?

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Mel clung to Steffen's neck as he walked; he needed the contact, for both comfort and balance. It had been a week and he was still in shock.

He was to be a Herald.

How in the hell did that happen?

And why did Steffen Choose him anyway?

Not that he was complaining, but still what would someone so great and pure see in him? He was nothing, a nobody. He wasn't strong or brave. He hadn't stood up for himself, or tried to protect anyone like Jedric had. Hell he'd put himself between his father and his friends out of pure panic. Not because he was brave.

He wasn't cut out to be a Herald, and he was sure Steffen would soon realize that and repute him. It was only a matter of time now that he was awake.

_: That is –quite – enough Chosen: _Steffen's mental voice was kind yet firm. _: I will not repute you; you have done nothing to deserve it. Being brave – well it isn't about not knowing fear, it's about facing it. There is not a single Herald who'd have his whites if a requirement of being Chosen was that they didn't feel fear. Fear is a good thing Mel, it keeps us from being incredibly stupid. Van taught me that. You put yourself between that man and your friends despite your fear, despite knowing firsthand what that man is capable of. You will make a fine Herald. : _

"But – I was so afraid, and I am nothing, a nobody." Mel whispered.

"You are not nothing, Trainee" A man's voice said firmly. "Trust your Companion's choice, they do not Choose wrong. You will make a fine Herald… even if you have self esteem issues now."

Mel turned his head and looked for the owner of the voice. They were in the Healer's gardens surrounded by rosemary and other medicinal plants he couldn't even begin to name. As such Mel was fairly certain the voice belonged to a Healer.

However when he looked he found a white clad Herald sitting quietly in a shady glen, using his companion as a backrest. Mel recognized him after a second, as the Herald who'd showed up at the store when his father had attacked him.

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Conrart couldn't believe he was doing this. How in the hell had he let Vanyel and Holly talk him into this? What was he doing going to go see a _Kestra'chern? _

_Oh calm down, you great coward, _He told himself crossly. _All you're doing is getting a message. Shinou, Gisela prescribed messages years ago as a way of reducing your stress anyway. So stop panicking. _But then there was a rather large difference between having Gisela – a trained healer, or even his closest friend, Yozak, giving him a massage and some random Kestra'chern he'd never met before.

Conrart found it mildly amusing that Gwendal exuded "don't fucking touch me," when the man was really nothing more than a big, socially awkward teddy bear. While he didn't particularly care to be touched by people who he wasn't on a first name basis with and yet people tended to gravitate to him as if he was some sort of guardian angel who's wings they could shelter under.

It drove him quietly mad, and all he could do was offer the people a small smile and a place to shelter while he screamed, raved and whimpered on the inside. Yuri was an exception to his 'first names' rule. The boy was after all his godson and the current incarnation of one of his close friends. Still it had taken every ounce of his will power not to run away screaming the first time Yuri had simply hugged him.

It was odd really.

How jumpy he was

Yet he hadn't really become 'jumpy' about being touched until his 85th birthday. Sadly he could see how it all made sense.

Rather abruptly he found himself standing in front of the Kestra'chern's door. He stopped short of entering the man's home – office, he wasn't really sure which; and didn't start moving again until Vanyel gently prompted him. Conrart swallowed, forced down his irrational fear and knocked.

"Come in," a man's voice called from inside.

Conrart fought back the urge to whimper, squared his shoulders and entered the Kestra'chern's front room. It wasn't what he was expecting. With a small sigh he picked a spot not covered with miscellaneous pillows or partly packed crates, intermittent with the occasional open bag or things he couldn't even begin to identify, and stood there at military attention waiting for the man to show himself.

Finally after a minute of listening to the odd noises and shuffling emanating from one of the rooms hidden from view by a brightly colored tapestry, a man with the trademark bronze skin and ice blue eyes of the Kale'dain emerged from behind the tapestry. He wore lose fitting drawstring silk pants of a beautiful shade of golden amber and patterned with feathers. A loosely fitted open silver and black patterned robe with trim that matched his pants completed the look. His build however was very atypical of the Kale'dain. He was tall and broad in the shoulder with a well built chest, and pecs.

In a word he was hot

That made Conrart very, very uncomfortable

But not as uncomfortable as the way his body was reacting without his permission.

His breathing was becoming a bit irregular, and he was starting to sweat. He wanted to turn around and run, run until he was as far away from himself as possible. He wasn't supposed to be 'turned on' as Yozak had once put it.

That only led to trouble.

He focused on the man's eyes in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. The man offered him a small smile, held out his hand and introduced himself.

In an almost gentle tone of voice

As if by some unknown reason the man knew he was going to bolt.

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Ambermoon did his utmost to appear nonthreatening, the young Herald – Conrart if he recalled correctly – looked like he was about to flee. He couldn't imagine why. He hadn't even touched him yet. With a sigh he glanced down at the supplies he'd unearthed from a box in his bedroom. He'd carefully chosen his message oils. Holly mentioned the boy's odd anxiety, and he'd selected oils to counter that. However he had enough experience to catch Conrart's slight reactions, both physical and emotional. It was obvious to his trained eye that the young man found him physically attractive; it was also painfully obvious that he intimidated the Herald.

Maybe he'd be better off using oils that were meant strictly to calm. The licorice and cucumber oil he'd originally chosen made people comfortable and lowered anxiety levels but it also increased the potential of arousal. Somehow he didn't think that was a good idea, particularly not when Conrart already seemed uncomfortable with his body's reactions. Lavender and Chamomile massage oil, should do the trick. He offered the boy a small smile, and gestured at the pallet lined with fluffy blankets that lay on the floor. His table had already been packed away, to await his return home in a decade or so; for now, the pallet would have to do. "Alright, get undressed, lay down and cover yourself with the sheet. Call me when you're ready, I'll be in the other room." Herald Conrart gave the pallet a skeptical look and seemed almost frozen. Ambermoon gave him an encouraging smile. "We could use my bed if you prefer." He offered after a second. The young man shook his head vigorously at the offer and actually took a step back in alarm. "No, no, the pallet is fine; I've just never had a massage on the floor before." That established Ambermoon turned and disappeared behind the tapestry that separated his workspace from his living quarters. It only took him a minute to find the right bottle of oil. As he waited for the young man to call him back into the other room it occurred to him that some music might lighten the mood and help the poor thing relax. It also occurred to him that closing his shirt might help as well. He walked across the room to one of his cabinets and looked at the large Conch shells that held the magically recorded instrumental pieces and even the sounds of nature itself. Ambermoon looked them over and chose one that held the sounds of the sea on a tranquil day. At last Conrart called to him from the other room, he entered quietly and tried not to laugh at the sight of the boy covered up with the sheet like a virgin girl about to have her first massage. He rolled his eyes and set the shell down onto a small shelf that had been carved out of his stone wall, after turning it on. The soft sounds of the sea rose up out of opening of the shell.

He knelt beside Herald Conrart and deftly turned the sheet down. It only took a few seconds to warm up the oil he spilled between his palms, and then he started the massage. He started at the base of Conrart's neck working his way slowly down and across the lad's shoulders using his scant gift of healing to loosen the knots and ease the tension that had knotted his muscles to the point that Ambermoon was surprised the boy could even move.

He smiled, ten minutes into an hour long session and the boy was already relaxing significantly under his hands. He moved steadily downwards working the kinks out of Conrart's back. The boy's back had been a network of tight knots. He was almost afraid to see what his legs and buttocks were like. He paused briefly to lower the sheet a bit more, and blinked when he encountered the man's rather strange smallclothes.

Well he supposed he hadn't told the boy to remove them, still it was mildly amusing.

He let his hands travel just a little further down the small of Conrart's back working his way towards his patient's rump, while he debated removing the thin strip of hardly there white cloth, asking the boy to do it, or just ignoring the fabric all together. Accidentally his fingers slipped below the hem of the other man's small clothes, and Conrart stiffened under his hands.

In hindsight he should have brought his hands back up the boy's back and asked him if he was comfortable with his massaging him there. However he felt it better to simply show the young Herald he was not doing anything out of the ordinary by continuing. He massaged the young man working his way around his hips as if it was perfectly natural – which of course it was.

However that's when things went sour.

The young man's smallclothes lifted slightly around his hands and moved ever so slightly down as he moved his hands to massage around the boy's hips.

Conrart screamed and lashed out, striking him full in the chest with a tightly coiled force he absently and rather belatedly realized was the young Herald's fetching gift. His world spun as his back slammed into the stone wall on the far side of the room. Around him anything that held water, large or small, exploded outwards. A small lizard like creature of water and ice snarled at him hissing like an enraged snake. There was a heavy weight on his chest and he couldn't breathe. It felt like he was being choked by the moisture in the air. And then like a gift from the Star-Eyed goddess, the pressure lifted, and the enraged serpent shattered and fell to the floor with a splash.

Ambermoon gasped for breath and tried to get his vision to clear.

It had only lasted a minute or two but it had been terrifying. He made a mental note to treat an emotionally scarred Herald as gently as he would an emotionally traumatized mage. That had been rather painful, and he was fairly certain that his entire back was going to be one big bruise.

Herald Conrart – and the sheet – where nowhere to be found. The young man's white clothing however was still neatly folded by the pallet.

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Holly looked up as Conrart ran past her wearing nothing more than a sheet, she didn't even have time to say anything before the boy bolted down the hall and she heard the door to his room slam shut. She sighed when she realized his cheeks had been streaked with tears.

Well that hadn't gone as expected.

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Ambermoon raised an eyebrow at the truly odd sight of a beautiful blue eyed white stallion standing in his doorway. He rose slowly to his feet and addressed the stallion – who he assumed Conrart belonged to – directly. "You're here for the boy's forgotten clothing." He said mildly.

The stallion nodded his head.

Ambermoon smiled and gestured toward the neatly folded pile. "I suppose the boy looked pretty silly running through the city in his smallclothes and that sheet. Go ahead take it to him."

The stallion walked past him, calmly picked up the folded clothing in his teeth and left.

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_Hands ghosted down his cloth covered body in gentle caresses that made him moan and squirm._

"_You like that?" Odalis breathed into his ear._

_Conrart nodded his head vigorously and moaned as one of the man's large hands caressed his nipple through his shirt. Odalis laughed and smiled down at him, before leaning forward to lick the shell of his ear. _

"_Do you want me to make you feel even better?" The man asked gently trailing one hand down his side and letting it creep up under the hem of Conrart's shirt. Carefully Odalis caressed his hip before sliding the fingers of his hand down along the crest of Conrart's hip bone, under his pants. _

_Conrart moaned and nodded his head again, only to freeze when Odalis pulled up his shirt and opened his pants. "What are you doing?" he asked as his boyfriend of more than a year pushed his open pants down so that they rested low on Conrart's young hips. _

_Odalis pulled away slightly and gazed down at him. "I thought you wanted me to make you feel good?" he replied softly._

"_Why are you taking off my clothes?"_

_Odalis laughed. "Because baby, it will feel better that way."_

Conrart sat bolt upright in bed, his body dripping with sweat. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to throw up at the memory. He'd broken up with Gwilherm two months before his 85th birthday but they'd actually dated for 3 years before that.

He tried not to cry as the memories of everything that had happened flooded his mind. Gwilherm had been less than a year shy of his current age when the man had first started courting him. Although he'd been a bit young to court, Gwilherm had done it anyway. They'd dated for 3 years before Conrart had broken off their relationship, first privately and then when the man hadn't gotten the hint rather publicly 2 months before he'd been old enough to legally be betrothed.

He should have listened to Yozak when his best friend told him Gwilherm was too old for him. It would have saved him a lot of pain. However Gwilherm had been very flattering and Conrart had easily fallen for him. He'd been thrilled that a man with Gwilherm's family reputation had been interested in a half-breed like him; and Stoffel had approved of the union. He'd still wanted desperately to impress the man at that age. He'd wanted his approval. But the crowning glory had been Gwendal. He'd loved and admired his elder brother; to the point that dating Gwendal's friend's baby brother had seemed like a good idea. The fact that both Zebastian and Leuthar where honorable men and well respected members of the community; had only added to his appeal. All in all it had seemed like his only chance at the most advantageous marriage he was ever likely to get.

He should have listened when Yozak told him a man Gwilherm's age couldn't possibly have honorable intentions if he was courting someone the human equivalent of 13. However Conrart had known the chance to be a part of the current reigning family was a step up for the youngest son of a relatively minor lord. Still good breeding and the chance for an advantageous marriage hadn't stayed Gwilherm's hand once Conrart had broken up with him; he shuddered at the thoughts of the things that man had done to him.

He defiantly wasn't getting anymore sleep tonight.

_: Calm down Chosen, you're safe.: _Vanyel said gently into his mind. _: You are in White Griffon, that man cannot hurt you here.:_

Conrart looked up and across the room at the large softly glowing white shape in the darkness. The Heraldic quarters in White Griffon had been designed so that Herald and Companion shared a spacious room connected to six others like it.

Vanyel's presence was soothing despite his nightmares, and Conrart slowly lay back down on his bed. Slipping one hand under his pillow he removed the arm band he'd nicked form Yozak's rooms before he'd left and tucked it up against his face. He imagined he could still smell his friend's familiar and comforting musk on the old supple leather.

It calmed him and allowed him to think rationally for the first time since the Kestra'chern had put his hands inside of his underwear earlier. He'd over reacted – still he didn't even want to think about going to see the man again; even if it was only to apologize.

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Conrart sat quietly on a large rock looking out at the sea, feeling the water's glorious buzzing in his very soul. Vanyel was frolicking in the surf, kicking up his heels with his flagged tail held high. Water splashed around the stallion's legs as he played. He shuddered at the memories of his encounter with the Kestra'chern, still ashamed over how he reacted.

He'd had a full body massage before, so he knew what to expect.

Hell Yozak routinely gave him a full body massage and he'd never reacted like he had last week. It was odd but sometimes he even got – cuddly – for lack of a better term afterwards. It was damned annoying, particularly since it sometimes happened even without the massages. At first Conrart wasn't sure why but he got cuddly almost every 10 years. The part that alarmed him the most was that the times he got cuddly coincided exactly with other changes in his body and temperament.

For one thing he sought out Yozak a lot more; it was almost like he was addicted to the other man's attention. The feel of Yozak's skin against his own feverish flesh was –

Almost intoxicating

He hated the way it made him feel.

Yet loved every second of it

For another thing, every ten years when he got cuddly, he also became docile.

He'd briefly entertained the idea that his erratic behavior might have been a sign that he'd gone 'into Rut' since the Mazoku were only fertile once a decade. However his behavior hadn't followed any of the symptoms of Rut that he knew of. While it was true that a male demon could go through either a Rut – 6 months of aggression, over protectiveness and general posturing – or fall into heat – a period of time when submissive males openly watched other males for signs of who would make a better mate – his symptoms hadn't truly coincide with either.

He'd caught himself looking at other males a time or two during his periods of odd behavior. However the only male who'd ever held his attention was Yozak and it wasn't even remotely sexual – all he really wanted was to be held. Submissive males and females in general where very – well – provocative when they were in heat. So for a while he'd thought it couldn't possibly be that.

However, Gwilherm, had gleefully confirmed his first heat, less than a month after his 85th birthday; 15 to 25 years before he was supposed to go 'into season' for the first time. Honestly Conrart was happy Gwilherm had never used his Heat to 'legally' rape him when the man was in Rut.

Although he was fairly certain he'd been spared _that _unpleasantness only because by order of his lady mother his _esteemed _ex-boyfriend had never been allowed near him while he was in Rut. She'd been worried that the increase of hormones would have led to them being married before he was ready for it.

He'd never been more thankful for his mother. Putting up with the man while he was in Heat was bad enough.

Truthfully he was very glad he'd never gone into a true Heat, the process was potentially dangerous not to mention life altering for the submissive male.

To make matters worse everyone had always thought he would be a dominant male. The fact that he was actually a submissive scared the hell out of him.

Being in Heat made him vulnerable

Painfully vulnerable

He would never willingly be as vulnerable as he had been with Gwilherm again.

Yet once a decade for 6 months, he was completely vulnerable.

Conrart sighed his uncle had used his lack of an obvious Rut to justify having his virginity checked by a healer when he was younger "to ensure that he hadn't disgraced himself while he was in Heat. Or so that they could have him safely wedded to the man he'd disgraced himself with to protect his mother's family's honor."

Conrart hated him for it, and for a while he'd even been furious at his mother for not trusting him to keep his own honor. But then he'd realized Stoffel probably hadn't asked her permission to have him checked, just like he'd never asked permission to do anything else.

After the war he decided that it would be safer for him if he just faked going through Rut.

Conrart had been glad daemons didn't have a set 'breeding season' and that coming 'into season' happened on an individual's own fertility cycle. He didn't think he could handle having to pretend to go through Rut when all he really wanted to do, was be held in the safety of his best friend's arms.

The whole process of faking a Rut had been taxing, and time consuming. He's started by covertly watching other men while they went through the various stages of their Ruts. Mostly he'd watched Gwendal, Günter, Stoffel and Yozak. He'd noted the way the quiet shoving and pushing matches had started a full 4 months before their actual Rut. It was called pre-Rut, a time when the body geared up for the true aggression of Rut. Over those 4 months friendly sparing matches, devolved into pushing and shoving matches that relieved stressed before eventually devolving into all out aggression and fights. The Rut itself was the hardest part to fake. Males in Rut tended to have little to no impulse control. They were also aggressive as all hell. They had to be, women and submissive males where extremely vulnerable when they were in Heat, so once they found a mate they had to be ready to protect them.

The worst part of faking a Rut was the simple fact that sometimes he couldn't avoid taking the medicinal tea's dominant Mazoku males had to drink in order to function in society. They made him sick to his stomach, tired, and generally moody.

Thankfully now that he was away from Stoffel and everyone else, he could drop the pretense of going through Rut.

His only concern was about how Yozak would react. He was fairly certain his friend would tease him mercilessly for a few weeks in retaliation for his ongoing deception. However he knew his friend would protect him, and guard his secret.

"Hello Young One," The Kester'chern's voice dragged him out of his thoughts and he squeaked in an undignified manner, when he realized just how close the man was standing to him.

Conrart got control of himself quickly, but he couldn't help the flush spreading across his cheeks at his own undignified behavior. He was about to apologize for how he'd acted a week ago, when the Kestra'chern beat him to it.

"I'm sorry I scared you." The man said softly.

Conrart sighed. "No, I'm sorry I overreacted." He replied mildly. "Did I hurt you when I threw you into that wall?"

The Kestra'chern chuckled mildly, "my back is a bit bruised, but I deserve it for forgetting the cardinal rule of my profession."

"What might that be?" Conrart replied mildly before adding, "And what is your name, it's probably very rude of me to keep mentally referring to you as 'the scary Kestra'chern'?"

"Scary really, I don't think anyone's ever told me I'm scary before. My name is Ambermoon by the way." The man replied mildly.

Conrart snorted in amusement at the physically older man's tone of voice. "What did you expect?" he asked calmly, "I ran away from you, all but screaming."

Ambermoon smiled gently at him in a way that made him feel very much like a little boy. "Admittedly that was my fault, though I can see your point young one. I am truly sorry I scared you. As to the cardinal rule of the Kestra'chern… well our purpose is to bring peace and comfort to the mind, body and soul. How can I bring you peace if I'm pushing you so far out of your comfort zone that I made a fully trained Herald lose control of his gifts?"

Conrart sighed and shifted on his rock, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I still over reacted, it's hardly the first time I've had a massage. I knew what to expect, hell if Yozak had done what you did, I wouldn't have reacted nearly as badly."

"May I sit down?" Ambermoon asked quietly, before adding. "Who is Yozak?"

"My rock is your rock," Conrart replied softly, "Yozak is my best friend. We grew up together."

Ambermoon sat down a few feet away from Conrart, perching himself on the edge of the rock. "Tell me about him."

Conrart couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips at the thought of his best friend. After a second he began to speak, his eyes closed as he remembered the good times of his childhood when he'd played with Yozak. Before either of them had reached puberty, and before he'd truly discovered the dangers inherent in relationships.

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AN. Okay here you go, Finals are coming up so up dates will slow down. Conrart and Yozak will be back together in about 3 more chapters. Also this is a warning to all our readers, this fic will be switching over to the M section in the next 10 chapters (assuming we don't get long winded).


	41. Reputed?

A.N okay so if you're a bit iffy about the whole rutt thing stay with us it gets explained in more detail over the course of the next few chapters. We are not referring to D/s, we are both science majors so we are referring to the biological processes that happen in all 'animals' including humans. It makes their lives difficult but in the end sex is ultimately a choice, just as it is for women. Biologically speaking we go into heat for 1 week (3 or 4 days actually) a month. Also keep in mind Conrart's view of things is a little skewed.

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Chapter 41: Reputed?

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Yozak sighed as he walked through the palace gardens it was weird being in pre-rutt without their being other Rutting males for him to compete and wrestle with. He could feel the aggression building deep inside his being. Since he was here, so isolated from his own kind he had no way to work out that frustration, and the pells in the sallie could only take so much abuse. Other than the pells he had no way to test his strengths, no way to make himself look more attractive for the females. For that matter there were no 'in season' females. Granted human women where always 'in season', but still none of them struck his fancy.

His mind kept drawing up pictures of Conrart curled up against his chest; snuggling against him at night, or just asking to be held. He made a noise like a soft throaty purr at the thought of how adorably vulnerable Conrart looked like that. Yozak groaned; that noise was an indicator of just how close to his 'true Rutt' he actually was.

He wasn't limited to just females or submissive males in his selection of a mate. If he found another dominant male who he fancied as a mate, he was within rights to attempt it. It started with a deep gravelly purr as an invitation offered from one Rutting male to another. If the other male reciprocated… well... what happened next depended on the men in question. Dominant males who mated each other invariably fought for the right to top. The more submissive male easily ceding to the other only after the roles had been firmly established over the course of several days. The one who became the submissive was usually in a bit of pain until he submitted freely. It was never rape, but the fighting to establish who topped beforehand sometimes left bruising.

What happened after the two came out of season depended on the rank of the two males in question. In his case they could either chose to be married or they could go their separate ways.

He'd verbally propositioned Conrart once a few decades back, when he was in Rutt during the war; it had been a few nights before the last engagement with the enemy. He hadn't expected to survive the war so it had seemed like an acceptable risk to take. Conrart had ignored the proposition, curling up against his chest in his cot. He'd gotten up and left a few minutes later, 'to plan for the next engagement'. He'd been terrified that he'd ruined their friendship, but when he'd apologized the next morning Conrart had simply offered him the small fake smile he'd seen so many times and told him 'not to mention it' and assured him that they would always be friends even if 'the thought of dying made things awkward'. He'd then proceeded to act as if it had never happened.

For Yozak it was harder to escape the knowledge that Conrart didn't see him as a worthy mate. He'd tried desperately to make the man see it, fighting bravely until the end. He remembered thinking that despite not having bathed in a week Conrart smelled divine. Just as he remembered looking down at his best friend curled up against his chest and thinking that they fit together perfectly. He remembered wanting to love his friend.

Physically

As far as he was concerned the most horrifying moment of the entre war was seeing that sword enter his best friend's body. Seeing Conrart fall, one more casualty of a cruel war, had been more then he could bear. For him the world had basically slowed down to a pace that made a snail look fast. He'd watched friends falling as he fought his way to Conrart's side. He'd been determined to protect him until his last breath; to bring his fallen friend home. He honestly didn't know what came over him, he'd seen many, many of his friends fall, during the time he spent on the front lines. But the second he'd realized Conrart was still breathing – his world had filmed over in red. He'd been vicious, until the last of the enemy had retreated, then he'd gently gathered the body of his fallen friend into his arms and set about carrying the semi conscious man off the battlefield. He'd told the commanding officer of the first squad they'd come across that they were the only survivors he knew of, and of how Conrart had fought bravely until the loss of blood had taken him down.

In the end Conrart had been given the Title "The Lion of Luttenburg", and he the title, "Shin Makoku's fox" which suited him just fine. All he had done was, carry his best friend home – Conrart had done all the real work.

It amused him to know that now he and Conrart were the only two of their species on this world. It really was hilarious. He'd come here with his best friend. A man he'd wanted as his mate since before his first Rutt. A man who also had no idea he existed, when it came to a possible relationship or even casual sex.

Although his odd and aggravating need to proposition him with a soft throaty purr as if Conrart was a submissive might have something to do with it.

This season he hoped to actually win his friend's hand. Maybe now that they were away from political and social restrictions, Conrart would accept him if he propositioned the man properly. He honestly didn't know why he kept purring at Conrart. He's seen the other man in Rutt. From what he could tell, despite being somewhat petite Conrart was fairly dominant.

He supposed Conrart's hand, was asking for a little much. Most Rutting males weren't interested in marriage until after the second or even third season they'd spent together. However he wanted Conrart not just as an 'in season' tryst. He wanted all the strings that came attached to a relationship; marriage, anniversaries, and hopefully adopting a few children. He doubted either of them had the extremely rare ability to get pregnant. Only about 2% of all males could.

He squatted down to investigate a small herb growing in the shadow of one of the garden's massive hedges. The little plant looked very similar to the herb he was looking for but it was the wrong color and the shape of the leaf was off slightly. He groaned and rose to his feet, continuing his search. The herb he was looking for was extremely hardy and quite prolific, so he couldn't imagine why he was having such a hard time locating it.

He wasn't sure if he could handle the next six months without that herb. If he'd still been going through the "False Seasons" that where a hallmark of the first 30 years of fertility, then it wouldn't be a problem, since Mazoku were not driven to mate until their fourth season. They were still aggressive as all hell but they had more control over that aggression since the urge to spill their seed was only about as powerful as a human teenaged boy. The teas took the edge off of that urge, and allowed him to actually think _before_ he acted, but he didn't know how effective the tea would be without the herb he was currently looking for.

It wasn't uncommon in his world and was always grown in the Healer's Greenhouses. He'd looked everywhere for it, but still couldn't find it. Hell he'd even go to an apothecary in town and still nothing. He shuddered at the thought of the coming months. It was the last ingredient he needed to make the tea he was supposed to drink while he was in Rutt. While it wasn't absolutely necessary to make the tea work it was still a very important herb. He wasn't sure how but it kept him from throwing up the tea and helped stop him from becoming completely erratic, and somehow let him control his impulses. Particularly the ones that drove him to find any willing body, sheath himself, and keep spilling his seed until his mate was heavy with his child or he was out of seed.

Or in his case any petite, brunet.

This was bad his Rutt started in earnest in two days. He'd gone through Rutt once before without the aid of the medication he was supposed to take. That however had been an entirely different situation. Firstly, war allowed him an outlet for his aggression, and the unintentional stimuli of Conrart's physically smaller form curled up against him in his cot at night shaking with a heady combination of fear and cold had provided him with an outlet for his protective instincts. Secondly, he'd been too young for the driving need to mate to have become a factor.

He was profoundly grateful for that, particularly when considering the fact that Conrart was his type, and went through one of his 'cuddly phases' almost every time he was in Rutt.

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Conrart smiled as he sipped his tea, in the week that had passed since he and Ambermoon had made their peace, they'd reworked their intended twice weekly massages and had settled for just having a cup of warm tea and talking. Today just like the last two times he'd spent an hour with the other man, the conversation inevitably turned to Yozak.

They'd started out discussing Conrart's childhood, and the many years he'd spent in his pony's saddle fallowing his father across the land. From there they'd inevitably come upon the topic of Yozak. Before Conrart – quite – knew what he was doing he was waxing elaborate on the day he and Yozak had first met. Describing in great detail the little 'ragamuffin' he'd met beside the boy's mother's grave.

Even as a small child Yozak had been brave. He'd had a spunk that hadn't allowed the boy to stay down for long.

Conrart envied his friend that.

In some ways it was funny, he'd spent the first few years of their friendship protecting Yozak and keeping him safe in his new life, and now –

Now he was driven to seek the shelter and safety of his friend's arms every decade. On a purely instinctive level he _knew _he was safe in Yozak's arms.

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Yozak snarled as he … listened to the two monarchs standing in front of him. He was in no mood to be lectured!

Okay so he'd broken the bastard's nose.

Who cared?

The pompous ass had it coming.

What made him think that commenting on Conrart's, beautiful, shapely, well toned ass- was even remotely okay?

He was the only one allowed to admire Conrart's perfectly fuckable ass!

"It's a fine day when it takes three Heralds to pull one of their own off of one of the palace guards!" Selenay said sharply. "Now exactly what do you have to say for yourself?"

"He's mine!" Yozak snapped before turning on his heel and exiting the room without a backwards glance.

He was most of the way back to his rooms when he ran into I'Ryn. Form his angle the young woman bore a dangerous resemblance to Conrart, and the young Herald was surrounded by flirting young men. He had a spilt second to realize just how _bad _this was going to be before his world filmed over in red and he did what he'd been biologically programmed to do.

Protect and guard his smaller, more submissive mate.

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I'Ryn cursed as she slammed her door shut and rounded on the still growling man she'd managed to coax into her rooms with an unnerving ease. It was the first time she'd gotten a good look at Yozak since he'd started acting funny.

She didn't like what she saw.

His beautiful Companion blue eyes where several shades darker than they should have been and his pupils where mere slits.

His breath was coming in short gasps, like a rutting animal.

She was deeply worried about the man; however she was also furious at him. Yozak had been acting strange for the past few weeks, picking fights with any man in the palace compound who was physically about his size or larger. He'd been seen following anyone with long brown hair around – usually for about an hour making an odd sound before he finally lost interest.

"What the hell is wrong with you Yozak?" she demanded sharply, "Your lucky the mind healers haven't locked you in one of the wards by now with the way you're acting."

"And what's with the growling?" She demanded after a second.

Yozak cocked his head slightly to the side and made a different noise deep in his throat, it was almost like a purr – if the cat in question was gigantic. Now that she thought about it, her family had shared their winter camp with a caravan of traveling performers who'd had three enormous tawny cats with them the two males had been crowned with an impressive mane of golden brown or black hair that the female had lacked. She remembered sitting at a fire with one of her friends and his cat listening to the creature purr late one night. The noise Yozak was currently making reminded her distinctly of that.

"What the hell is up with you? First you're growling now you're purring; have you lost your mind?" she demanded throwing her hands up in exasperation, "Lord Dark and Lady Bright, stop that already."

Yozak jerked as if he'd been slapped and made yet another odd noise, like a strangled yelp and shook his head forcefully twice before he looked up and met her gaze. His eyes were noticeably clearer, the pupils slightly more dilated despite the still extremely prominent slit.

"I'Ryn," he said after a second as if he'd only just recognized her.

"No it's the ruddy Queen!" she snapped in annoyance.

He looked at her for a second with an alarmed and vaguely surprised expression on his face. "When did you get here?" he asked after a second, before adding "for that matter where is here?"

"Are you okay?" she asked into the uncomfortable silence that followed. "We're in my rooms; it was actually fairly easy to get you to come with me after you finished assaulting the men I was talking with in the hallway."

Yozak snarled at the mention of the other men.

Truly annoyed with his erratic and more then slightly animalistic behavior she reacted to the noise the same way she did with one of her twin's many dogs, she reached out and bopped him on the nose. For his part Yozak recoiled, shook his head and blinked at her for a second in profound shock.

"Sorry," he said after a second, "I'm not myself."

"I can see that." She replied mildly. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." He replied just a tad too quickly.

"Like hell there's nothing wrong with you!" she snapped. "You keep getting into fights; you're making strange noises, following every brunette around, and acting like I need protecting! Do you have any idea how distinctly odd it is to hear you growl like a damned dog?"

"I am not growling like a dog." Yozak snapped angrily. "I was purring there is a rather large difference."

I'Ryn raised an eyebrow, "Why are you purring?"

"That's none of your concern." Yozak yelped.

"Well you had better explain anyway!" I'Ryn snapped, placing her hands on her hips, "or I'm calling my brothers and letting them figure out what the hell is wrong with you! I'm sure they'd be happy to help. My Blakeley tells me that Tykir's Randale told her that the Mind-Healers are close to locking you in a room until they've figured out what the hell is wrong with you. So you had better start talking!"

_: Chosen, I never said that and neither did Ran. :_ Blakeley said sternly into her mind.

_: He doesn't know that, and maybe the fear of being locked in a padded room where even the furniture is nailed down will make him get some help. : _She replied.

She could feel Blakeley snort, _: or it will alarm him enough to do more harm than good. Tell him the truth Chosen.:_

_: Oh hush you. I know what I'm doing.:_

"Good!" Yozak snapped, "Let them lock me up! At least then I can't hurt anyone else. Human's are so bloody fragile!"

"Yozak, tell me what's going on; how can I help you if you won't tell me what the hell is wrong?" I'Ryn yelled. "Is this a demon thing or something?"

"Yes it's a 'demon thing', of course it's a demon thing, how many human's do you know who go through Rutt!"

I'Ryn blinked, "Rutt" she asked after a second.

"Yes Rutt!" Yozak snapped striking her door with one fist; "Like a damned deer."

I'Ryn blinked. _Rutt really? Honestly Rutt? So the man was acting like a psychopath because he was in heat? _She looked down noticing for the first time that despite their argument Yozak was… well… hard. She'd actually never seen the man with tented pants despite trying to get him aroused for the better part of a year. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked after a second.

Yozak sighed and rubbed his brows, "No there's nothing you can do for me; but thank you for offering."

"You sure?" she asked softly.

"Short of letting me pound you into a mattress; there really isn't anything you can do for me." He said simply.

I'Ryn smiled, stepped forward and took Yozak's wrist in one hand, using the other to start undoing the ties of her pants. "Shall we take this into my bedroom then?" she asked pulling Yozak with her as she backed toward her rooms.

To her utter shock, Yozak dug in his heels and refused to move after taking a single step in her direction. He licked his lips, and she noticed the significant increase in the size of the tent in his pants. She knew he was interested, she also knew he was large. The thought made her a bit wet.

She gave his hand another tug and he stepped forward again before shaking his head and digging in his heals.

"No I'Ryn." He said not quite firmly. "I'm not going to risk getting you pregnant."

I'Ryn laughed, "I'm on the herbs, just like every other female Herald. You can't get me pregnant, and if you do that's what Childsbane is for."

To her surprise Yozak growled at the mention of the herb 'Childsbane'. "I'm more fertile when I'm in Rutt," he all but snarled, "the herbs won't work. As for Childsbane, you'd never have the chance now that I know."

She blinked at that and looked him in the eyes. "I'll double my dose tonight then. Let me help you. More fertile or not I'm on the herbs, one time won't hurt." She backed up a couple of steps slowly working the ties of her pants further open, so that the now open fabric rested on the curve of her hips.

Yozak took a step and then another, making a noise deep in his throat. "Three years, I'Ryn" he said haltingly. "Do you really want to be pregnant for three years? Because if I take you, you will give me a child; unless I take you like I would another man."

I'Ryn squirmed; neither of those two options seemed pleasant. She didn't know why Yozak was so adamant that she would end up with child if they coupled. _Shit though 3 years. _She felt sorry for Mazoku women.

She took the few steps required to put her technically into his arms, and grabbed his shoulders before carefully steering him into a chair. The slightest bit of downward pressure got him to sit. The tone of his growling/purring had changed considerably. "Let me help you with that another way then." She all but purred as she undid the ties holding his pants closed.

"No, I'Ryn. That's a very bad idea." Yozak replied haltingly as she spread his thighs and went to her knees between them.

"It'll be fine," she replied, as she pulled the fabric open, reached in and took hold of his throbbing erection.

Yozak made a noise she couldn't –quite – hear, and gasped as she pulled his gloriously large penis out of its white cloth prison. The sight of it made her wetter. Though it also made her glad she didn't like it from behind. "Well aren't you a stallion," she said quietly, gently stroking the already leaking shaft. The sight of the fat milky white droplets already dribbling down the head, and across the foreskin made her want it even more, and she leaned in to lap them from the tip. It was sweet, a pleasant change from the salty flavor she was used to.

Yozak gasped, moaned and grabbed the arms of the chair. "I'Ryn, stop." He gasped, "You don't understand how much danger you're in."

"Danger?" she asked carefully liberating his balls from his pants and rolling them between her fingers. Marveling at the size of them, she couldn't help wondering if that was their normal size or if they were swollen from his rutt.

He arched his back and made another odd noise, moaning at her every touch. "Stop, If you don't, I don't think I can stop myself from taking you."

"You don't hear me complaining." She replied as she engulfed his head, and started to suck.

Now that she knew how close he was to taking her, she wanted to feel his hot quivering member thrusting deep into her body. She worked his shaft and balls for a few minutes doing her best to take all of him into her mouth, though she knew that would be impossible. After a few minutes, Yozak moaned and the noises he was making changed to ones that indicated he was close to coming. She bobbed her head a bit more vigorously, determined to milk every last drop out of him. Her efforts where rewarded when he tangled his hand in her hair and after another gasp pulled her head a bit closer to his groan. Making a funny, almost seductively soft purring noise deep in his throat – oddly she knew she wasn't hearing all of it.

The hard polished wood of her center table dug into her back, as a sharp tug aligned her naked hips with the edge. The cold winter air caressed her bare nipples making them stand on end as much as the soft purring of her partner made her hair stand on end. Large hands dug into her flesh as her thighs where roughly parted, and something slid into her body more forcefully than she was comfortable with, at the same time as Yozak sank his teeth into her collar right above the bone.

She didn't even have time to cry out, at either the painful bite or the rather painfully inserted finger, before Yozak hissed and drew back shaking his head and snorting in apparent disgust. He seemed utterly confused, then he blinked and his eyes focused on her face before widening in pure terror. "Shinou, I'Ryn what have I done?" He gasped before bolting out of the room.

Thankfully he'd had the sense to put himself back in his pants.

Her door slammed behind him hard enough to shake the walls. I'Ryn swore as she sat back up, she really needed to learn to listen. This was her fault not Yozak's, however she knew it was going to be hell getting him to believe that. He'd warned her not to do it, but she'd done it anyway. He'd warned her that he was dangerous, but she hadn't listened. Hell he'd even said no, she just hadn't listened. She'd wanted to give him release so badly that she hadn't stopped to think about how badly he would react if they did end up having sex. Great now he probably thought he was going to rape her or something when she would have been and was a perfectly willing partner.

She climbed to her feet after pulling up her slightly worse for wear pants. She would have liked to follow him immediately, but her shirt was in ribbons. Yozak must have torn it open. I'Ryn sighed she'd have to put on a new shirt and tunic before she could follow the man, since he'd even managed to shred her breastband.

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Yozak fled down the halls of the castle, he didn't know what to do or where to go. I'Ryn was going to hate him for this and Jissa, Shinou Jissa was going to repute him for sure! He'd never been like this before. Sure his Rutt made him aggressive and almost violently overprotective of Conrart, but he'd never thought it was in him to rape someone.

He should be locked up for what he'd just done!

He didn't know what scared him more, the fact that he'd nearly raped his friend or the fact that he'd only stopped because he'd realized she wasn't Conrart when he'd bitten her. It was true he'd never tasted Conrart's blood, but the other man's scent had been permanently burned into his brain, the first time he'd gone into Rutt.

It was odd he wasn't supposed to recognize anyone other than his mate by scent, and yet he recognized Conrart's scent.

Shinou, Conrart would be the first one to lock him up and throw away the key if he knew what he'd just done. Conrart was nearly as dominant as he was, and he was always in control during his Rutt. Sure Conrart picked fights, and was generally, an aggressive, pompous pain in the ass when he was in Rutt, but so was every other male. However Conrart was one of a very few males who backed down after knocking down an opponent, most males didn't stop until their opponent was a comatose mass at their feet or until the fight was forcibly broken up.

Although he supposed that could just mean Conrart was less dominant then he was.

Anyway the point was there was no way in hell Conrart would condone or forgive his monstrous behavior.

He should just turn himself into the guards as a rapist and be done with it.

Although first he'd have to find a guard he wouldn't attempt to kill, or worse mate with.

Oh Shinou what if he actually raped someone? He should just let Jissa turn him into a gelatinous mass before the healers locked him away in the small hidden ward were they kept the mentally ill and dangerous patients.

Shinou knew he deserved it, just as he deserved to be reputed for what he'd just done to another Herald.

_: CHOSEN,: _Jissa's voice in his head was hard enough to shape diamonds, and he cringed in fear at what was to come._ : Come to the stables now Chosen.:_

More than half blinded by tears, he turned and headed for the stables

To be reputed.


	42. I'M WHAT?

Chapter 42: I'M WHAT?

Jissa stomped one silver hoof in the hay of her stall, she was deeply worried about her chosen. The boy had almost no control over his own actions. She knew what had happened wasn't entirely Yozak's fault he had warned I'Ryn of the danger she was putting herself into. The other Herald simply hadn't listened to him. Hell he'd even said no several times before the last dregs of his control snapped. If anyone had been sexually assaulted it was Yozak not the other way around. Blakeley agreed with her.

Not that her currently emotionally distraught Chosen was going to believe her.

She'd had to shout and use an extremely firm tone just to get the boy's attention. She knew she'd scared him. Just as she knew he probably thought she was going to repute him.

The boy was wrong of course, he couldn't control what had happened in that room anymore then he could control the river.

She also knew this was the worst Rutt the poor boy had ever been through. It was only his second true Rutt, but he was dealing with this one without the help of the medication Rutting male dæmons used to help keep themselves in check. There had to be something she could do to help the boy control the driving _need _to find his mate and, well, mate.

The problem was for some reason Yozak already considered Conrart his mate. That could be because they were lifebonded. Whatever the reason there was one clear fact, If she didn't find a way to exert some level of control over her Chosen's drive to mate, Conrart wasn't going to be safe when he returned from his circuit.

She'd realized that with how Yozak had reacted to I'Ryn.

Maybe she could control Yozak's Rutt like Companion Kalira had controlled Herald Lavan's rather alarming firestarting gift?

She wasn't sure but it was worth a shot.

A maelstrom of emotions struck her in the heart and she turned her attention to her truly traumatized Chosen. Honestly Yozak was more shaken by the events of the last few minutes then I'Ryn was.

Time for damage control :_ Come here my Chosen,: _She said, gently wrapping the boy in a cocoon of love and reassurance. _: I am Not going to repute you, however we are going to have to find a way to fix your lack of control.:_

Yozak collapsed into her exhausted and emotionally spent, the boy sobbed in a mixture of pure relief and unbridled terror at what he had just done. "How can you want anything to do with me?" he sobbed into her main. "I – I could have raped her!"

_:But you didn't Chosen.:_

"Only because she wasn't Conrart!" he gasped into her now sopping wet mane. "If it had been, oh Great One, if it had been – I don't think I could have stopped."

Jissa was about to reply when another voice cut her off, "Conrart isn't here Yozak, as for me you warned me it was dangerous, I _chose _to do it _anyway. _You told me _no, _but _I _kept going. If anyone was sexually assaulted it was _You _not me."

It took Yozak a minute, but finally he extracted himself from her mane long enough to look up at I'Ryn and the rather startled looking Herald Sandy who was standing just beside her. "I am so sorry," he all but sobbed. "I-I should be locked up before I hurt someone."

I'Ryn sighed as Jissa carefully folded herself up on the floor, pulling her still crying chosen down with her so she could carefully curl up around him like he was still a little foal. He needed the comfort right now. He curled in on himself all but cowering against her flank. She nuzzled him gently, offering wordless comfort and support.

I'Ryn walked over and squatted down beside them, "Yozak," she said gently "if you were still in Shin Makoku how would you handle this?"

"It wouldn't be this bad in Shin Makoku," Yozak replied softly more to Jissa's mane then to I'Ryn. "I'd be taking that damned disgusting tea."

"What tea?" Sandy asked quietly, moving closer to kneel beside the now silently crying man.

"We drink a tea when we're in Rutt; it helps to control the desire to mate… and the aggression… the impulses. I've managed to find most of the herbs I need. But it's not working very well without the main one. I can't find it I've looked everywhere and I can't find it!"

"What is it supposed to do Yozak? My mother was a midwife and an herbal healer, she taught me, maybe I can find it for you." Sandy replied quietly.

"It, it makes everything work properly, and allows me to keep the vial stuff down." Yozak replied softly.

Sandy groaned, "That's not an herb I'm familiar with what does it look like?"

"It has large, blue, spiny, somewhat waxy, oddly shaped leaves, with bright orange running through the center." Yozak replied.

"It's blue?" Sandy asked incredulously. "Can you give me an image of it?"

Yozak sighed, and gently handed over a memory of what the plant looked like.

Sandy snorted, "Yozak are you colorblind?"

"No, it's blue," Yozak half yelled, half sobbed. "It's frigin Cobalt Blue!"

Sandy sighed, I've seen this plant, but it's green not blue and the veins are white. I'll be right back."

She came back a few minutes later with some dripping leaves in her hand. "Is this it?" she asked holding them out to Yozak. Yozak blinked and took the leaves almost reverently from her hand. He ran his finger under the base of one of the snapped leaf veins, gathering a bit of the sap on his finger. He then licked his finger.

"This is it!" He said excitedly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

"It's green?" he asked after a second, "why is it green?"

Sandy and I'Ryn shared a look before they laughed softly. "Will that help you keep yourself under control?" I'Ryn asked.

Yozak nodded, "this little thing will allow me to actually take the tea without almost immediately throwing it up, which will allow me to control myself. Thank you again. Where did you find it? I looked everywhere, the green houses, all of the apothecaries in Haven, hell I even went to the market; hoping people thought it was just a vegetable."

"I found it in the little mini vale. It's a weed Yozak; we've never found a use for it. It makes us sick to eat it. But it's abundant in the vale and out on companion's field in better weather." Sandy replied mildly.

Yozak nodded, "I'll make sure I get enough to last for the rest of my Rutt," he replied simply. "Now I should go make myself a cup of tea that actually works."

_: Jissa, thank you. : _he said softly in mind speech.

I'Ryn rose to her feet, "we'll go with you."

Yozak froze and shook his head, "I haven't taken my tea yet, and it will take a good 15 minutes to take effect. I'Ryn considering what happened earlier, I'm not so sure that's a good idea." He paused then added, "as soon as it takes effect I – I need to go explain myself to the queen."

"Yozak, what happened between us was an accident. You don't need to punish yourself for it." I'Ryn said firmly.

"Maybe not," Yozak replied mildly. "But I still need to explain my behavior for the past two weeks."

I'Ryn nodded, "Good luck then, I'm going to go have a glass of wine, if you want to stop by latter, feel free."

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Selenay groaned as she contemplated the behavior of one of her Heralds. Yozak simply hadn't been himself for the last several months. He'd seemed distracted somehow. It wasn't normal for him; however things hadn't gotten bad until two weeks ago. His behavior had really been rather ridiculous, in the last two weeks Yozak had done a lot of stupid, reckless, and downright unheraldic things. The young man had picked at least one fight with every male Herald in Whites. That wasn't the half of it. He'd left bruises and broken bones in the wake of several of those fights. And his moods changed drastically with little to no warning. She was beginning to wonder if he might be dangerous; either to himself or to those around him.

The odd part was that according to Caryo, Jissa kept insisting there was nothing wrong with her Chosen. It had taken three Heralds to pull Yozak off of a member of the palace guard, and Daniel was going to be laid up for another couple of weeks. Heralds Liam and Alan would recover in a couple of days – although Liam's fractured ribs would be painful until the healers finished with them.

As for her husband, well the man had a very nice shiner.

She didn't – quite – know what to do with Yozak; the young man's behavior was erratic and aggressive. In fact if he'd been anyone but a Herald, he'd probably be cooling his heels in one of the Guard's cells. As it was, she was seriously considering having the man confined to quarters until he was evaluated by a mind-healer.

She glanced up at a knock on her office door, and gaped at the sight of Yozak. The young man looked both apprehensive and contrite. He cleared his throat and somehow managed to look as if he was gathering his courage for what was to come. He took the few steps required to put him directly before her and Daren and inclined his head slightly in respect.

"Highness," he said softly, fidgeting slightly. "I have to apologize for my behavior these past few weeks."

Selenay blinked, more than a little surprised. She gestured to the chair before her desk with one hand. "Then by all means Herald Yozak, please explain your recent behavior."

Yozak sat quietly in the offered chair for a moment before he spoke. "My people are fundamentally," he paused as if searching for the right words, "different from yours, highness." He held up a hand when she would have interrupted. "Please let me finish. Even today when relations between the Mazoku and the Ningens are more amiable, this is not a subject spoken of to … outsiders."

She inclined her head and waited for him to continue.

"Mazoku can live for several centuries. Lady Ulrike, for example is over 800, and still in her prime.* As you can imagine if Mazoku women were 'always in season' like human women… well we'd be up to our eyebrows in children." He paused and fidgeted slightly in his chair like a little trying to avoid 'the talk'. "Mazoku women are only fertile for 6 months out of every decade. The result is that every ten years or so Mazoku men are extremely aggressive because we need to be able to win and protect a mate… add to that the fact that Mazoku pregnancies last three years, and well you can see why."

Selenay nodded and waited a second to see if he would continue before she asked, "So it's the Mazoku breeding season?"

Yozak flushed, "Not exactly."

"Then, why are you acting the way you have been?" Daren asked form where he was standing behind her.

Yozak – who'd previously been focusing on her and ignoring her co-consort – glanced up and bared his teeth before replying in a tone that was all but a growl. "Much like humans our cycles are individual."

"Then why are you still acting like this?" Daren asked quietly. "There are no Mazoku women for you to win and no other Mazoku men for you to fight."

Yozak snorted, "Do your women stop having their moon days because there are no men?" he asked shortly.

Selenay held up her hand to stop her husband from replying, she had bigger questions than the why – she needed to know if it was safe for Yozak to be at the palace or if she would have to send him away, likely to somewhere remote where he wouldn't be a danger to anyone.

"You seem fairly in control of yourself right now, are you no longer under the influence of this season?" she asked gently.

Yozak sighed, "You mean, am I still in Rutt? Yes I am. The only reason I'm 'in control of myself' as you put it is because I've taken the tea that helps us to interact safely with society as a whole."

"If this tea allows you to maintain your control, then why haven't you been taking it?" Selenay asked keeping her voice level.

"I have been, I went to every apothecary in Haven to get the ingredients, but I couldn't find one of them. So I made the tea without the one ingredient, it made me sick and I couldn't keep it down." He swallowed, pulled a green and white leaf out of his tunic and almost reverently placed it on her desk. "Sandra found this about 20 minutes ago and gave it to me, so the tea was actually able to do its job this time."

Daren rubbed the bridge of his nose, "So it's safe for you to be around people?" he asked almost gently.

"Yes," Yozak replied sheepishly.

"What about Herald Conrart?" Daren asked after a second.

To Selenay surprise Yozak growled, his pupils contracting to thin slits. "What about Conrart?" He paused briefly, took a deep breath and then amended in a civil, if strained tone "What about him is of interest at the moment?"

"When should we expect his Rutt?" Selenay asked after a second's hesitation, apparently the man's protective aggression extended to his best friend.

"Within the next two years," Yozak replied. "Don't worry, he won't be nearly as bad as me, medicated or not, Conrart has always had an astounding amount of control."

Daren raised an eyebrow, "why would he have more control then you?" he asked after a second.

Yozak turned the full force of his attention to the Co-consort of Valdemar before he spoke. "Conrart is…" he paused as if groping for the right words and started again. "The more … dominant the male the less control they have in Rutt."

"So you are more… dominant then he is?" Selenay asked gently, stumbling over the unfamiliar term.

Yozak sighed, "I would assume so; even in Rutt Conrart never truly hurts anything."

"So how long does this Rutt last?" Selenay enquired.

Yozak flushed "I have a little less than six months left."

"Is it safe for you and Conrart to be together if you are both in Rutt or should we take pains to separate you if you ever come into season together?" Daren asked softly, "Will he need protection from you when the two of you are … like this?"

Yozak had growled menacingly at the suggestion but stopped and looked a little sheepish when Daren elaborated. "No," he said after a second's consideration. "Conrart is still the better fighter and even in Rutt he could mop the floor with me. I respect that. We might fight a bit, but it would be little more than a way to relieve aggression."

Selenay resisted the urge to rub the bridge of her nose, pulled an ink pen from her desk and wrote a quick note on a scrap of paper. "Go see the dean of the Healers collegia, give him the leaf you gave me and this note. He'll be expecting you. If you and Conrart are going to do this every decade we need to make sure the herbs you need are always on hand."

KKMHOVKKMHOV

Elizabeth stood quietly beside Herald-Healer Tykir and Healer's Dean Dolan waiting for Herald Yozak to appear. If she was honest with herself she wasn't sure how she should act around Herald Tykir, he was after all her lover's little brother. Still he was both a colleague and one of Valdemar's honored Heralds, it made working with him interesting. Dolan had called them here to address an apparent issue with two of the Herald's hence Herald-Healer Tykir's presence at this meeting. The fact that she and I'Ryk had been called in as well told her exactly which two Heralds they were likely to be discussing. Heralds Conrart and Yozak had been placed under their care for the simple reason that their anatomy was slightly different from normal. As the two authorities on Change-children, whose anatomies often differed from the unchanged, she and the man she had already begun to see as her mate were uniquely suited to the task of looking after their medical health. I'Ryk however was currently with a patient so she would relay the information gleaned here to him that night after dinner.

In some ways it was odd, originally both Herald's had been assigned to I'Ryk since at the time she'd still had another six months before she received her greens. She'd been called into I'Ryk's office one day however, because while Herald Yozak had had absolutely no problem with the arrangement Herald Conrart on the other hand had refused to let I'Ryk anywhere near him. To this day she was the boy's primary caregiver. Which was odd because she would have thought he'd be far more comfortable with a male healer; most men his age were. Hellfires, she would have expected the boy to be more leery of her claws then I'Ryk. However he was more comfortable with her, claws and all.

Sure enough a few minutes after they'd gathered in the greenhouse used by the healers to grow specific medicinal herbs, Herald Yozak appeared, looking a little embarrassed and bringing with him a rich, heady musk.

She sneezed almost violently in an attempt to get the smell out of her nostrils before she reacted to it. However her body reacted to the scent before she could stop it. _Hellfires, he reeks!_ She thought harshly. _Why does he reek of sex and not sex as in he's recently had it, but sex in the come and get it sense?_

Yozak walked in and nodded to the gathered people. "You asked me to meet you here Healer Dolan?"

Dolan smiled at the Young man as she tried desperately not to fidget. "Queen Selenay tells me you have a slight medical issue that we need to address. Unfortunately Healer I'Ryk was unable to attend this little meeting, but Healer Elizabeth is here in his place and Tykir is here because… well we're not really sure but it seemed like a good idea. Now could you please describe in detail exactly what this 'Rutt' does to you?"

_Ah hellfires, that explains his scent._

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

Elizabeth felt her tail twitch as she listened to Yozak explain, it sounded a lot like what happened to several of her change-child patients who went through heat. However it was odd Yozak was a male. It did make sense though humans came into season once a month for about a week, and dogs came into season once or twice a year for the better part of a month, so why couldn't a dᴂmon come into season for six months out of every decade? Then again why did males have cycles of fertility at all?

The tea Yozak mentioned sounded interesting and she couldn't help wondering if perhaps she could adapt it to work for change-children. The only problem was that in order to learn exactly what it did and how to make it she would have to stay in the same room with the man for longer then she'd wish.

It wasn't that she didn't like the man, she did; it was hard not to like the man. He had a great sense of humor. It was just that she unfortunately was one of the change children who had that particular problem. She was due to come into season in a little over a week and his scent was all but intoxicating.

"Could you write down the recipe for that tea? I want to see if I can use it for change-children in heat." She said softly.

Yozak blinked, "the tea I drink is designed to help with Rutt, trust me it won't work. However there is a tea that women and Submissives drink while in heat that may work. I can teach you how to brew it if you'd help me find the herbs."

"What in the nine hells is a submissive?" Tykir asked sharply.

Yozak snarled, paused, and then flushed, "A Submissive, is a male who goes through Heat rather than Rutt. There aren't many of them, but it does happen."

"How is that even possible?" Dolan asked quietly, "and why would a male go through heat? It makes no sense."

"I don't know they just do. Probably for the same reason a very small portion of our women go through Rutt." Yozak retorted. "It's just a fact of life for my people."

"What do you call women who go through Rutt?" Elizabeth enquired curiously.

Yozak ran a hand through his hair, his face resembling a tomato in color when he replied, "They're called Dominants although Rutting males can sometimes be referred to as that too. Males who go through Heat are referred to as Submissive and I have never heard a female referred to as such. Now can we _please _stop talking about this?"

KKMHOVKKMHOVKKMHOV

I'Ryk smiled to himself as he finished the paperwork attached to the last patient he'd seen today. There was less than a mark until the Dinner bell tolled. He couldn't help his good mood, he didn't have any more patients, and with the exception of the interview he had with the family of a prospective student, regarding the boy's possible acceptance, he had nothing more to do today. It wasn't normally one of his duties, but they boy and his family had traveled from the outskirts of Valdemar on the advice of a passing Herald, after the child had accidently healed an arrow wound, and nearly killed himself in the process. Dolan couldn't see the child today as his attention had been called elsewhere by the crown, so the duty had passed to him. The boy's interview was scheduled for the candle mark after dinner. Great as it was for the Collegia as a whole to have new students admitted, it was a major bump in his day.

He was planning to propose to Elizabeth that night over dinner, it was going to be a little difficult to work everything into the hour he had to work with. Particularly since he and Elizabeth where going into the city for dinner. But he was confident that he could manage it. Elizabeth would understand if he took a break from the romance to handle the interview and find someone to show the child around the Collegia. She understood duty. Still he could have done without the inconvenience. Idly he wondered if he should just leave his lover a note and push dinner back until after the boy's interview.

It would defiantly be easier.

He'd write her a note about the change in time, and put it on her desk where she was sure to see it when she came back. I'Ryk sighed as he pulled out a sheet of paper, a quill pen, and an ink well.

He'd only just finished writing it when his door slammed open; Elizabeth was standing in the doorway when he looked up. Her tail was twitching rapidly, as she sniffed the air, her ears tucked back so that he could only just make out the black tips against her beautiful hair. He rose to his feet at the sight of her; she was flushed underneath the short white fur that covered her cheeks.

"Are you free?" she enquired as she shut the door behind her, her claws digging small furrows into the wood.

He offered her a smile, carefully not showing his teeth - he didn't really know why but he didn't think it was a good idea right now. "For the next couple of hours and then Dolan wants me to interview a possible new trainee; I'm sorry but I'm going to have to postpone dinner for about an hour, hour and a half at most. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she replied, thought her voice sounded quite strained. "I- I want you, I, take me please."

I'Ryk was across the small room before her words had even consciously registered in his mind. "Let's go back to my rooms." he said huskily.

Elizabeth shook her head and buried her nose in his chest. "No," she moaned. "Take me here."

He blinked; aside from the one time on Beltane they'd never had sex anywhere other than in bed. Elizabeth hadn't wanted to risk anyone likening her to an animal ever again - her looks had gotten her plenty of that before Herald Skiff had rescued her and her siblings. "Are you sure?" he asked after a second's consideration.

She nodded vigorously, "Please, take me, take me now."

Reaching out with one hand he locked the door to ensure their continued privacy, then he scooped her up carried her the short distance to his desk and placed her on it after she'd, helpfully - if somewhat messily - cleared its cluttered surface with her tail. It only took a minute to get her pants down enough for him to start peeling off her small clothes.

Lord and Lady she was wet and dripping with arousal already.

He pushed her green robes up, rather roughly while she fumbled for the ties of his pants and freed his already hard penis from its cloth prison. He kissed her lips, and started fondling her before inserting himself into the folds of her womanhood.

What followed was almost frantic.

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Elizabeth lay sprawled on I'Ryk's desk, panting. She couldn't believe she'd just done that. She'd never allowed herself to act on her heat and truthfully she was humiliated to think she had acted so animalistic. She hated to think of how I'Ryk was likely to react to her behavior. When he'd first started courting her she'd been wholly convinced that the man had only been interested in her because she was a change-child. His fascination with them had been clear, as had his fascination with her. It had taken the better part of a year before she had been willing to even consider him.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what brought that about?" I'Ryk asked from directly above her.

_Oh hellfires how am I supposed to get out of this one?_

I'Ryk sighed, "You're in heat aren't you?" he enquired gently.

She blinked up at him completely flabbergasted. _How had he known? She'd always been so careful._

He got off of her, helped her to sit up and sat down calmly in his desk chair. "Honey, it's okay. You can't help what your body needs. Humans go through cycles of fertility too; they're just not as pronounced. As for how I knew, honey we're both Healers and you … hide from me every year for two weeks." He gently squeezed her clawed hand. "It wasn't hard to put everything together."

"I- I'm sorry I lied." She replied softly, "And I'm sorry about this, I'm not supposed to go into heat for another week or so, but Yozak is in season, and the man reeks and I was stuck in a room with him for 3 hours trying to see if the tea the Mazoku use for their cycles can be adapted for use with change children. Sadly that required our first finding the plants to make the teas which took an extremely long time. Since most of the plants look completely different."

I'Ryk smiled at her, "you have nothing to apologize for love." He said gently.

Elizabeth looked down, "I spent a little more than 3 hours with Yozak, who is in Rutt, and I think I'm going to go into heat early. Lord and Lady, I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

She looked at him for a full minute before answering his gentle inquiry. "When I'm in heat I'm more fertile. Lady bright, what if… I never should have let my hormones control me."

I'Ryk pulled her gently off of the desk and into his lap. For a moment he just held her, and then he lowered his hand to her stomach and got the faraway look that was associated with healingsight. After a minute he spoke, his voice gentle. "You're not ovulating yet so unless we make sure you catch you won't."

Elizabeth sighed and snuggled into his chest completely relieved, it was nice to know she hadn't ruined his life and that she wasn't going to have to drink childsbane and hope she was one of the change-children the herb actually worked on. She'd been resting against his chest for a while and was almost asleep when I'Ryk spoke again.

"I was planning to ask you this properly over dinner but now seems like as good a time as any-"

She interrupted him before he could finish, seeing where his train of thought was leading; "Ask me tonight love."

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Ambermoon sighed; young Conrart was either lifebound or dangerously obsessed with Herald Yozak. It didn't matter what they were talking about the boy always swung back to Yozak like a compass needle to north. He'd been carefully pushing their conversations in a way that would reveal a lifebond since Holly had suspected the boy was. It had only taken two or three conversations with the boy for him to make his assessment and come to his conclusion. He'd spent every conversation since trying to gently point out the lifebond to the young Herald. It had yet to work, Conrart just refused to see it. Actually Ambermoon was fairly certain that Conrart saw his affection for Herald Yozak and the man's returned affections as 'safe'; which meant that the only way he was going to get Conrart to step out of his comfort zone was to push him out of it.

Tomorrow they left White Griffon and started the trip to Haven; according to Holly they would be there two to three weeks before Beltane. He planned to shove the boy out of his comfort zone tonight, so that he returned to Haven having either acknowledged the fact that he was in love with his best friend or the fact that they were Lifebonded. Either one would be a breakthrough and would lead to the boy accepting the other.

Ambermoon hoped the boy accepted the fact that he loved his best friend since that would make accepting the lifebond easier, desirable even. He looked up and smiled gently when he heard Conrart politely asking admittance. Smiling he called the boy in and gestured to one of the pillows on the floor before pouring tea for them both and taking a seat.

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Conrart sat quietly on what he'd begun to think of as his bolder. It was silly and he knew it, but the bolder reminded him of one of the large spikes of earth and stone, Gwendal was known for during the war. It was also close enough to the sea that it gave him comfort like a security blanket of salt water. Ambermoon and Holly had been relentless in their attempt to get him to admit to the fact that he was lifebonded to Yozak. He'd finally had no choice but to leave. He remembered screaming at them that they were wrong. That Yozak was simply his best friend; they had an unusually close friendship it didn't mean he was in love with the man.

Love was dangerous.

He'd loved Gwilherm and that had gotten him nothing but pain.

He couldn't stand the idea of being in that situation with Yozak.

He wouldn't, couldn't be hurt like that again.

Yozak was his safety, and always had been. The man was as much his security blanket as … well his baby blanket had been before his father took it away. Yozak had been a source of safety for a very long time. He'd been a rock that Conrart could shelter against and his only source of safety for so long. Conrart didn't know how to handle the idea of him being anything but safe. A part of him screamed that even if they were lifebonded or mated, Yozak would never hurt him. However that part of him was overridden by a larger part of his very being that screamed in manic terror. Gwilherm had been the captain of his guard, a man who by all rights should never have been a threat to him.

Still the man had hurt him

He wasn't in love.

But did he have to be?

Did he have to be in love to be Lifebonded?

No he didn't

Vanyel had explained lifebonds to him once; all it meant was that your souls were compatible. That your strengths and weaknesses complimented each other so that where one was weak the other was strong. A lifebond could manifest itself as simply a very deep friendship. Not all lifebonds included sex.

Okay so he was lifebond to Yozak – his best friend – he could live with that. At least now he knew why they were so close; why a friendship that shouldn't have lasted past puberty was a grounding factor for him. At least now he knew why Yozak always seemed to know when to hold him and give comfort or when to back off and let him be. It explained so much, why they always knew what the other was feeling, why there were times when it was hard to tell where he ended and Yozak began. They were lifebond, he'd accept that. It didn't mean they were in love and it sure as hell didn't mean they were going to have sex.

He was _never _having sex again

_Ever_

Sex was pain and humiliation and he wanted no part of it.

Not now

Not back then

Not ever

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*Lady Ulrike normally looks to be 8, (her adult self, she looks to be mid to late 30s possibly early 40s.) Lady Undine is a couple thousand years old and physically looks to be about 7, her twin who is not an oracle looks to be in her 90's. All we know about them is that they are both very powerful and look young to conserve energy.

A.N.

The rating will be moving to M in a few chapters time.


	43. Reunions

Chapter 43: Reunions

Conrart sighed as he secured Vanyel's saddle, he was finally going home. The last part of his circuit had been a trial. He'd started having disturbing dreams while in White Griffon and those disturbing dreams had only followed him. It was beyond annoying, the fact that Van kept insisting they were perfectly normal didn't help matters. He'd never had one before so why was he having them now? Besides there was just something not right about dreaming of Yozak doing _**that**__._

Yozak was his best friend.

He shouldn't be having a reoccurring dream about his hands running gently over his naked body while they swam naked in a lake! It was true that it had happened once when they were younger about a month before his 95th birthday. But it hadn't gone nearly as far in life as it had in his dreams. In his dreams he … made love to Yozak.

At least he thought that was what it was at any rate.  
It was the only way he could explain what he was dreaming.

What they were doing was completely… different from everything he knew of sex.

In his dreams he'd enjoyed it and Yozak had catered to his needs and had been gentle in a way he knew was not remotely possible.

In his dream Yozak had been kind and gentle.

It had felt like the man was worshiping his body with his every touch.

In reality he'd lost himself that night in the lake and had encouraged his friend's every move… he'd allowed Yozak's every gentle touch enjoying the way it made him feel. He'd been so caught up in the gentle feelings washing over him from Yozak that despite his fears he'd told himself everything would be okay, and had simply wrapped his arms and legs around his best friend's body. They'd come so close to having sex, but he'd freaked out at the feeling of Yozak's penis sliding against his backside.

Yozak had been kind to him afterwards, holding him while he cried and apologized for stopping them there of all places.

Yozak had assured him it was alright and they'd never spoken of it again.

In some ways Conrart cherished that memory.

In some ways he hated it.

It was usually the first sign that he was going to go into Heat, it turning into a full on erotic dream however was new. This season had been far worse than any he'd ever been through. He understood why but it was still hard to handle. This was his 6th season, like all young Mazoku his first several seasons had been erratic, and were only just starting to stabilize so that they were actually beginning to come on a reliable schedule, eventually his cycle would synchronize with his mate's. Assuming he ever took one, he may have been born for it but the idea of spending the rest of his life sexually pleasing someone else was not something he even wanted to contemplate. Gwilherm had spent some time teaching him what was expected of him as a submissive, and he'd be lying if he said the thought of living that life – even with Yozak – was even remotely appealing.

He shuddered at the memories.

He'd wanted to tell Yozak he'd lied about going through Rutt but he didn't plan on telling him while he was in Heat. The very idea terrified him. This was his third true season and it was becoming harder for him to control the driving need to find a mate, male or female it didn't matter. His body didn't care if he took or was taken, didn't care if he took control or surrendered it. He wanted Yozak, he wanted the comfort and security of his arms wrapped around him.

He was only two and a half months into his heat and yet already his burning need for Yozak was more then he could stand. Being separated was a physical pain and he couldn't help wondering if the fact that they were lifebonded had anything to do with his wanting nothing more to bury his nose in the other man's neck and breath in the oddly spicy musk that was uniquely Yozak. Just as he wondered if it was the lifebond that fueled his desire to feel Yozak filling him as the other man pounded him into a mattress despite his abject terror at the mere thought of the act.

Despite his feelings about sex he wanted Yozak to take him until the other man had no more seed left to spill and he was so full he couldn't hold another drop… and then he wanted to be taken again and again and again.

It scared the hell out of him.

Particularly since now he had to face his friend while he was in Heat, and he didn't know how long he was going to be able to lie to his friend this time. His Heat had been so bad he was sure Yozak would figure it out. The thought terrified him in spite of his earlier plans to tell the man.

Yozak could handle it in one of three ways as far as he was concerned. One he could handle it exactly how he'd thought the man would handle it if he'd been able to tell him when he wasn't in Heat, with a lot of teasing tempered with good natured and friendly protection. Or he could react in one of the two ways Conrart feared most. Gwilherm had taken delight in explaining both possibilities to him in painful detail. The lesser of the two evils would be that Yozak was so disgusted with him he'd refuse to be friends with a submissive. But what he truly feared was that Yozak would take him as his submissive. A fourth option which Gwilherm had always told him was the most likely, he knew would never happen. Despite their culture and everything Gwilherm had told him and led him to believe – he knew Yozak would never do what Gwilherm had said he would. That and Vanyel assured him the Companions would never allow him to be passed around when he was in heat.

Honestly he didn't know if he was more terrified of the idea of Yozak ending their friendship or the idea of Yozak taking him as his submissive.

One thing gave him hope and calmed his frayed nerves, at least tonight he'd be curling up to sleep in the safety of Yozak's arms, wrapped securely in the warm blanket of the other man's scent.

He'd worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

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Yozak felt rather silly as he rushed around his quarters cleaning up. Conrart was finally coming home and he'd be damned if he let the other man see his rooms in such a state of disarray. As a boy Conrart had often teased him, saying that he was attempting to come up with a working model of chaos theory. They'd both been rather surprised when Conrart had gone to earth and learned their actually was a chaos theory.

He couldn't wait to see his friend, to share in his adventures at the vales and learn about White Griffon and the things he had seen. Just as he couldn't wait to tell Conrart about his own adventures; about little Saori and the other orphans or for that matter the little fruit bats he'd rescued from that road-side vender.

One thing was certain Conrart was likely to die laughing at the thought of him teaching. He'd never been as patient as his friend, and tended to deliver harsh blows (both verbal and physical) to those stupid enough to cross him the few times he'd taken over training Conrart's recruits. That should be amusing. His previous teaching record aside he found he enjoyed teaching something other than weapons and as Conrart had once sarcastically called it "try not to die 101". Conrart was by far better suited to teaching weapons work, customs and survival skills. He always seemed to have an endless supply of patients that for some reason never extended to his own short comings.

That was Conrart for you, willing to accept every one's shortcomings but his own.

Yozak sighed as he finished putting away the last of his clothing, it was true there were servants who could have taken care of everything for him but he preferred to do things himself and they only came in once a week anyway. For the most part Heralds were expected to be self-sufficient. He couldn't help noticing that one of his old arm bands was missing. Idly he wondered if Conrart had nicked it. When they were younger and he'd been sent away to military school Conrart had often stolen his pillow, and a time or two he'd come home to find the other boy passed out on his bed with tear stained cheeks.

He'd been sent to military school when he was still a little young to truly attend, as such he'd come back to the palace a lot more frequently then was the norm. His early admittance had happened because Stoffel thought he was becoming a bad influence on Conrart. Actually the only thing that had kept him from being shipped back to the Nameless Village on Conrart's family lands was the fact that Conrart had thrown an outright fit at the thought of never seeing him again.

Stoffel had tried to use that as a way to prove his point but Queen Cecilia had pointed out that Stoffel himself had had a tantrum at the thought of losing his best friend and Conrart was still just a child. Her solution had been simple if he was a bad influence on Conrart he'd just have to be civilized. He was actually very grateful to Conrart's lady mother, as an orphaned present boy (out kingdom at that) the best he could hope for was to be a stable boy at the palace if he wanted to stay near his friend.

Military school cost money, money that had come from the queen's coffers.

He owed the fact that he was literate to Conrart –

But he owed the fact that he was educated to Conrart's mother.

Yozak smiled and shook off his melancholy, if Conrart had felt the need to swipe one of his arm bands then he would get it back as soon as the other man came home, if not then at least it was an old arm band.

His task complete he headed out of his rooms to the little vale on the palace grounds. Briefly he'd considered using the hot spring, however he really wasn't in the mood to soak alone.

It didn't take long to reach the mini vale, he sighed as the warm humid air washed over him. Yozak couldn't help smiling at the exuberant greeting he got from Squeak as the little 'flying fruit' flew down to land on his tunic. The bat was chattering on about his new mate and the babies their small clan would be expecting in a little more than a month and a half. After a few minutes the bat wound down and enquired after his mate and offspring.

Yozak flushed hotly _well this was emberassing_

_: I don't have a mate or any children of my own yet.: _He replied after a moment.

The 'fruit' made an inquisitive noise as it enquired. _: No mate? What wrong?:_

Despite himself, Yozak was mildly offended. _: There is nothing wrong, only I have set my eyes on someone I can never have.:_

Squeak chirped at him softly. _: If already taken find another to fly beside you.: _the little bat advised gently.

_: Conrart is not taken, my friend, merely out of my reach.: _He replied after a second.

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Conrart smiled to himself as they road through the gate into Companion's field, he was finally home. It was odd how quickly he'd come to think of Valdemar as home. Of course he'd always thought of home as being almost anywhere that Yozak was. Now however he had finally come to understand just why Heralds said their home at Haven was just a room and that their real 'home' was in their Companion's saddle. Like all Heralds before him he _truly _belonged with Vanyel.

Conrart snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a somewhat high-pitched cry of surprise. A Companion stallion was headed towards them at a brisk trot his young Chosen clinging to his bare back, a look of wide-eyed wonder on his face. Conrart smiled wondering if this was the first time the boy's Companion had jumped with him on his back. The fence leading into Companions Field was just behind them and it was the only thing Conrart could think of that Companion Steffen could have done to make the boy squeal like that.

But then the boy couldn't have been much older than 12, so it was possible his voice had as yet not started to drop.

_: Herald Trainee Melody, though he prefers Mel according to Steffen, brother of my heart. : _Vanyel supplied mildly as he came to a halt and waited for his lifebonded. Holly and Rohanan continued on without them, Ambermoon riding pillion behind Holly.

Idly Conrart wondered if Steffen was Vanyel's _Mate. _Not that it was really any of his business. The Mazoku could marry or they could Mate. A marriage could be dissolved after a century had passed for no reason beyond the desire to go their separate ways, and their relationship could be monogamous or not based on the desires of the Dominant. However when two Mazoku Mated, they were bound together for life. The only thing that could break the bond between a mated pair was death. Being anything but monogamous was all but unheard of in mated pairs, for the simple reason that the bond was created over multiple seasons, usually requiring that a pair remain together and mutually monogamous through several cycles of fertility.

While spousal abuse happened in Demonic society, it was extremely rare if not nonexistent in a mated pair. Usually a mated Demon would kill to protect his mate and their children.

Conrart knew Vanyel was lifebonded to Steffen, but he couldn't help wondering if theirs was a love match as well. It seemed incomprehensible to him that someone as great as Vanyel should be stuck in a loveless relationship.

Vanyel's mindvoice was light and crisp like apples, _: I am very much in love with Steffen Chosen, you need not fear for my happiness.:_

Conrart had the grace to blush as Steffen sidled up to Vanyel and nuzzled him in a Companion's version of a quick kiss.

"Eww, gross mushy stuff!" Mel said from atop Steffen's back.

Conrart couldn't help it, he laughed. "You won't mind it so much in a year or so."

"Well you're mature aren't you?" Mel asked in a tone that reminded Conrart distinctly of Yuri.

"I'm a great deal older then you are at the moment, young one." He replied, with a soft smile, using the same tone he'd used with Yuri on their expedition to find and retrieve the demon sword Morgif.

Mel giggled, "True, you're ancient, I mean you're what 18?"

"Relatively speaking, I'm closer to 20." Conrart replied as Vanyel turned and headed for Companion's Stables again, Steffen falling into step beside him.

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Mel chatted amiably with the mostly silent Herald who rode beside him.

Herald Conrart

According to Steffen this was Herald Conrart, Chosen of Companion Vanyel.

Companions Steffen and Vanyel

The legendary Bard Stefen and Herald Mage Vanyel

_Hellfires, his Companion was the Bard Stefen!_

That made that –

_Holly shit that's Herald-Mage Vanyel! __As in Chosen of YFandas, Demonsbane, Shadowstalker, the hero of Stony Tor, THAT Vanyel! The same Vanyel who ordered the very trees to slay in protection of Valdemar, and haunted a forest for years as a border guard!_

_He's smaller then I pictured. He's not even as big as Steff. I wonder if his size as a stallion is relative to his size as a man?_

Mel couldn't help evaluating Vanyel, even though he had a limited amount of experience with horses. Jedric had been teaching him a bit about horses in general and Companions in particular since they'd first met. Vanyel was small for a stallion, with a light build, and a high set tail. He also had a small muzzle. He was dainty and delicate and looked a lot like an even more beautiful version of the horses he'd seen some of the highborn riding.

Rather abruptly Steffen whickered – and Mel felt the stallion's laughter eco down their bond. _:I Chose your many times great nephew that's how I know that lute you witched is still around.:_

"You bewitched a lute?" Herald Conrart asked mildly, "whatever for? "

_: I was bored, Chosen. It's not like I spelled it to play better or anything like that. Medren was going out on his journeyman year, and he loved that lute… so I put a spell on it so that it wouldn't break. Apparently I needed to work on my timing, too many of my spells are _still _around. I'm surprised I didn't kill myself from stupidity some times. And close your mouth nephew – before you start catching flies.:_

Mel very nearly fell off Steffen he was so surprised.

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Conrart smiled to himself as he opened the door to Yozak's quarters. The man wasn't home yet, apparently he was teaching a class, which was honestly a little amusing. He sat gracefully down on Yozak's sofa, taking in the other man's unique and comforting scent. Without stopping to think he buried his nose in one of Yozak's throw pillows, curled up on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warm feeling that came from being engulfed in the safety of Yozak's rich and intoxicating scent.

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_The river caressed his lithe body as he calmly treaded water. He gasped at the feeling of Yozak's hands traveling his nude body. He squirmed and moaned; he wanted more despite his alarm at the way the gentle caresses made him feel. This was Yozak he was safe. That was all that mattered. Yozak's hands slid down Conrart's back to caress his ass. The younger man moaned into Yozak as the other man invaded his mouth with his talented tongue. Yozak squeezed his rear sharply and pulled him closer, until their naked chests where pressed together. Conrart moaned, as Yozak nipped his earlobe and whimpered as the man began alternately kissing, licking and nipping his way down Conrart's neck to his shoulders. He made a noise deep in his throat and wrapped his arms around the other man's neck._

_Yozak's hands slid down his buttocks gently caressing, before briefly the fingers of one hand slid between his cheeks. Conrart gasped, moaning in desire. Yozak slid his hands lower and dragged his legs up over his hips. Conrart wrapped them around his waist and hung on. Yozak supported him with one hand while the fingers of the other slid between his cheeks under the surface of the water._

_One finger slid slowly into Conrart's body as he whimpered and moaned in an odd combination of fear and elation._

"_Conrart"_

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Yozak sighed as the last of his Shin Makoku language students left the room. It had been a long day. Conrart was finally home, he knew that much though he had yet to actually see his friend. He'd briefly felt the other man's mind brush his in a soft and intimate caress, however that had been hours ago. He'd been able to feel their bond reforming and if he concentrated he could feel Conrart's emotions beyond the other man's tightly coiled shields. Conrart felt warm, safe and content with an undertone of something else that he couldn't quite place.

Smiling to himself he left his class room and headed down the hallway reaching for his friend's mind with his own. _: Conrart?: _he called softly

_:Mmmm Yozak.: _Came the oddly disjointed reply.

Yozak blinked _that was odd. _And he still had no idea where Conrart was, he sounded half asleep so he must have gone back to his own rooms. Yozak sighed he'd go drop his stuff off at his rooms and then he'd head over to Conrart's quarters and see if the other man was up to going out into the town for a drink.

They'd walk so that Van could get some rest, if Steffen would let him.

_: If Conrart's too tired to walk and Steffen is occupying all of Van's time then I'm willing to carry double. : _Jissa informed him happily. _: Or if you'd rather, I can carry Conrart and you can walk.:_

Yozak laughed as he opened his front door and froze in mild surprise, Conrart lay on his couch sound asleep with his nose pressed into one of his throw pillows. He couldn't help smiling when he realized which pillow his friend was using. It was his favorite throw pillow the one he usually rested against. He shut his door softly not wanting to startle the man sleeping on his couch, crossed the room and set his things down on his coffee table.

For a minute he simply watched his friend sleep. Conrart looked so young and he barely caught himself before he started purring. The sight of the other man curled up and looking so young and vulnerable in sleep set every one of his protective instincts on fire. With a soft sigh he reached out and gently shook Conrart's shoulder, calling his name softly to help rouse him.

"Mmmm, sleepy." Conrart mumbled, after a minute he yawned, and blinking sat up. The movement bringing with it a soft noise, and Yozak realized he had beads and feathers breaded into his now very long hair. It fell like a wavy, shimmering waterfall to the middle of his back and Yozak couldn't help smiling at the sight of the little brown ringlets that it occasionally curled into. He'd forgotten how wispy Conrart's hair used to be whenever he'd let it grow out. It looked like all Conrart had inherited from his father was a slightly lighter version of his general coloring, and his skill with a sword.

Conrart looked a little flushed and he couldn't resist the urge to tease his best friend, "Having a _Nice _dream?"

To his surprise Conrart's eyes flicked briefly down to his lap as he turned an even deeper shade of red.

_That would be a yes then._

_This could be fun._

"Oh you where." He offered his friend a wicked grin. "Was I in it?"

"Yozak!" Conrart screeched, his ears turning an alarming shade of red.

"Oh breath before you pass out from lack of air. I was only joking." He flopped down onto his couch beside his beet red best friend and added "you're too much of a prude for that."

Conrart swatted his arm, a little harder than normal. "Not funny," he complained.

Yozak grinned, "You know you love me."

"Can't imagine why though, besides it was just an old memory."

"You wound me."

"Good maybe you'll learn some manners."

"Ow." Yozak wined in mock pain. "Beer?"

"Not tonight, I'm sorry I'm just not up to going into town." Conrart replied softly.

"Not a problem, I have some ale or tea if you'd rather?"

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"You look tense, and honestly rather stressed," Yozak said after they'd been talking for the better part of four hours. "Would you like me to give you a massage? You know loosen up some of those muscles."

Conrart flushed at the idea of Yozak seeing him mostly naked now that he knew they were lifebound, he hadn't even worked up the courage to find out if Yozak knew yet. Thinking of the lifebond that tied him irreparably to his best friend, made him think of the man who had forced him to recognize it in the first place. For some Shinou be damned reason that made him think of the disastrous first time Ambermoon had tried to give his massage.

He felt something truly odd as he remembered the feeling of the other man's oiled hands sliding down his body. He felt like something was probing harshly at his memory, it hurt. He whimpered in alarm feeling the urge to beg Yozak for forgiveness. He shook his head, feeling embarrassment flood through him when he realized Yozak was about to see him throw Ambermoon into a wall in his terror. He couldn't let the other man know he had been that weak.

Nearly panicked by the soft sound of Yozak growling and the other man's insistent mental probing he slammed his shields shut with enough force that it was like suddenly being blinded. He'd effectively cut himself off from the entire outside world.

For the first time since puberty he truly was alone in his own mind.

Yozak recoiled from him sharply, as if burnt by some unseen force. "So," he growled softly, "the feathers aren't just for show."

Conrart gazed up at his friend, utterly bewildered by the fact that his instincts were still screaming for him to start placating the other man. It was aggravating, Yozak was accusing him of being loose.

How dare he!

How dare he, when Yozak's own memories revealed the fact that _he'd slept with I'Ryn._

Of all the hypocritical -

He had no right!

"You're one to talk," he snapped.

"Excuse me?" Yozak growled his pupils contracting to mere slits, his eyes glittering with an almost dangerous light.

"You slept with I'Ryn, and who I chose to give my body to is no concern of yours!"

"So did you earn those feathers one by one or did they come from just one person?" Yozak growled sharply, raising to his feet so that he towered over Conrart, he leaned in all but pinning the smaller man to the couch with his very presence.

Conrart shivered, somewhere deep within him his instincts were screaming at him to calm Yozak before the other man asserted his authority over him for the first time. Another louder part of him was wholly pissed off by the accusation. He sprang to his feet, shoving the other man sharply away, "you ruddy bastard," he snapped only to find himself roughly shoved back into his seat with an oof.

Yozak was so close Conrart could feel the other man's breath on his neck as he spoke in a low and menacing growl. "For once in your life, pull that damned noble stick out of your ass and admit to the fact that you've warmed a few beds in your time, and I am not the one who was acting like a tavern wench."

Conrart's eyes widened and he gapped at his best friend in shock as memories of his past washed briefly over him.

_The forest around him was quiet accept for the soft sounds of his own whimpering and the laughter and grunting of his guards. He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment and tried not to think about what he was doing as Gwilherm slid in and out of his buttocks, pleasuring himself, while making Conrart feel so very cheap. "There's my good whore," the other man grunted above him. "You like performing don't you?"_

Suddenly sick, and completely enraged Conrart slammed his knee upwards deliberately going for a very delicate portion of his best friend's anatomy. He shoved him sharply away while Yozak gasped for breath and whimpered in profound pain. Then he rose to his feet and stormed out of the other man's rooms, pausing briefly at the door to deliver his last parting blow.

"I never want to see you again," he hissed and slammed the door behind him.

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Yozak groaned as he poured himself a glass of strong liquor, tonight had not gone anywhere near like he'd planned. He had no idea what had come over him. What in the name of the Great One had possessed him to pin Conrart to the sofa like that? Oh he'd made such mess of things.

Damned Rutt, he wouldn't be acting first and thinking second in regards to his best friend if he wasn't in Rutt.

He had to fix this

But he didn't know how.

He'd give his friend a few days to calm down and then he'd go talk to him.

But he was going to be in Rutt for a little over a month. What if he screwed things up again?

He rubbed his brow, and took a swig of his liquor; he hadn't a clue as to how he was going to fix this.

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Conrart Weller sat curled up at the head of his bed, his arms wrapped protectively around his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he rocked himself lightly back and forth. He couldn't believe this was happening. Yozak was –

Yozak was everything

He didn't know how to function without the other man.

But he'd just lost his best friend thanks to his own stupidity.

He couldn't stop seeing Yozak's eyes glittering with rage. He couldn't get the sound of his deep throaty growl out of his mind. He wanted to crawl over to the man and beg for his forgiveness and only his pride kept him from doing so.

He wanted to lie down and sleep, just so he could pretend this whole fiasco had been nothing but a bad dream – but he couldn't even do that. Yozak was never going to forgive him. However what was worse was the fact that he kept hearing Gwilherm's voice. He could feel every painful thing his guards had done to him rising to the surface of his mind to haunt him afresh. He could hear Eckhart's cruel laughter and hear him cheering Gwilherm on encouraging the man to new heights of cruelty.

_Worthless half-breed whore _he'd been called that more times than he could remember.

He wanted to go to Yozak to have the man chase away his nightmares with his very presence. But he couldn't. He'd ruined his friendship with the other man.

Yozak was going to hate him now.

It was his own fault

There was nothing he could do, no one he could go to for comfort so he simply sat there and rocked himself slowly back and forth, desperately humming the tune to the old lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was a boy.

He wanted his mother

But mostly he wanted Yozak.

A.N. Please review it keeps my muse working. also this fic will be moving into the M territory soon!


	44. The Ending of a friendship part 1

Chapter 44: The Ending of a Friendship

Emperor Melles smirked as he surveyed the seven white horses his hostlers had brought before him. Each one was the progeny of the purest white horses in his empire, and each one had come to him at a significant loss in tax income; their breeders would be tax free for at least two years. Soon he'd be sending these seven horses and their riders into Valdemar and the surrounding kingdoms where they would undermine the reputation of Valdemar and her Heralds, and thus bring the kingdom to its knees.

However, since Heralds were fabled to be one with their mounts, his agents would spend the next month learning to be one with their "companions" and learning the carefully created signals these horses had been trained to respond to, so that the commands went unnoticed by on lookers.

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Conrart Weller winced as he made his way to the Heralds Bath; in the week since his fight with Yozak he lost more sleep than he actually managed to get. He missed Yozak terribly, and his inability to sleep was getting in the way of the rest of his life. Kerowyn and Alberich had given him the responsibility of helping to teach the new trainees weapons work. Apparently the crown thought that he'd make a good teacher in addition to his other duties as a diplomat.

Teaching the trainees wasn't that difficult although he had been accused of "not playing by the proper rules," which had amused him greatly. He couldn't understand why the nobles of this country suffered from the extreme misconception that swordplay was just that-a play, with rules that controlled the engagements. That may have been true in part, but he wasn't training them just to see them killed on their first real engagement.

Dealing with his students had been ridiculously easy, but then again it had been a while since he had to train someone so green. Greta had been his last student back in Shin Makoku, and he was happy with the girl's progress. By human standards she was fairly good; almost as good as Wolfram. Unlike her father the king, Greta could at least hold off a group of assailants long enough for help to get to her.

-which was a lot more than he could say about any of his current students.

He was fairly certain a few of them wouldn't even know which end of the sword to hold without the aid of their Companions.

_: Chosen, that's a bit harsh. : _Van piped up from where he was frolicking in Companion's field with Steffen.

"It's true, though." Conrart replied mildly, drawing a look from a passing servant. _Must be new, _he thought idly, _I give him a week before he either gets used to it or runs away in fear of his sanity. _

_: Chosen, just because you are in a bad mood doesn't mean you have to take it out on everyone else. : _ Van responded.

_: I'm not taking it out on everyone else-if I was there'd be a lot of annoying nobles visiting the Healers.: _Conrart replied tartly.

Vanyel sighed,_: You're acting like a woman before her moon days right now, you know that?: _

Conrart huffed and slammed up his shields, in annoyance.

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Yozak swallowed-he was finally going to go and see about apologizing to Conrart. He'd intended to do it a few days ago at dinner, but the other man had gotten up and left as soon as he'd arrived. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as if Conrart were still furious with him and he couldn't gauge his friend's emotions when his shields were being held so tightly. However, more than 12 decades of friendship allowed him to read the subtle signs present in Conrart's body language with as much ease as he could have read the old story book he'd been taught how to read from, and those signs told him Conrart was more hurt then angry.

Still, he was worried-it wasn't like Conrart to avoid a confrontation.

He paused briefly in front of his friend's door, and took a deep breath, gathering his courage before he knocked.

Conrart looked beautiful when he opened the door, with the shaft of late afternoon light flowing in from one of the windows through his cracked door and bathing him in its soft light. His scent wafted out with him, gently caressing Yozak's senses,

enticing him . . . encouraging his every lurid thought . . .

He made a soft, almost purring noise of proposition before he even knew what he was doing.

Scandalizing mental images of his beloved best friend's beautiful eyes full of lust gazing up at him, mewing softly while he thrust his aching penis into Conrart's tight, wet hole, assaulted his mind before he could even think to stop them, just like he desperately wanted to assault Conrart's manhood in more ways than one. He wanted to scoop the other man up into his arms, carry him swiftly into the bedroom and make sweet, frantic love to him until Conrart's body couldn't hold a single drop more of his luscious seed. He wanted to make Conrart his. He wanted the entire world to know that Conrart's beautiful body belonged to him and him alone.

The sound of a door slamming shut snapped him out of his thoughts, and he gazed stupidly at Conrart's closed door wondering just when he'd slammed it shut and how long he'd been standing there staring.

_Damned rutt! _he thought crossly, _it's more trouble than it's worth._

Raising his hand he knocked softly, "Conrart," he called "Please come out, I -"

"Go the hell away, Yozak." Conrart yelled, his voice cracking as he spoke.

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James smiled to himself as he put the finishing touches on the descriptions of Companion tack and Heraldic whites that he'd gained through spending the last week spying on Valdemar's Heralds through his scrying dish. Heraldic uniforms would be easy enough to simulate with a white undershirt, white over-tunic, and breeches with white riding boots. The tack worn by the Herald's horse was interesting; the color was predominantly royal blue with silver accents. The saddle had a high cantle with a prominent pommel, and the bridle was oddly elaborate with small silver bells.

Nothing too hard.

Emperor Melles would be pleased.

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Conrart Weller sat up in bed with a very bad feeling that was making it impossible for him to sleep. He groaned and climbed out of his bed. This last week had been hell. About half way through, he'd started following Yozak around from a distance like a lost and frightened puppy. It was damned embarrassing.

But he hadn't been able to stop himself.

It had been all he could do to not to be obvious about it.

Even that was becoming increasingly difficult.

Last night he'd slammed the door on Yozak, but all he'd really wanted to do was throw himself at his friend's feet and beg him for forgiveness. He wouldn't lower himself to that simply because he was in heat. Yozak would be disgusted with him.

With a sigh, he reluctantly got out of bed, pulled on his shoes and grabbed his cloak. His birthday was in 6 days, and he was already beginning to feel the effects of that hated day. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep with the persistently nagging bad feeling that arose in his breast; not that he particularly wanted to go back to the nightmares that were already starting to plague his dreams. He wanted to be in the safety of Yozak's arms, and wanted to spend his birthday in the shelter of his best friend's embrace. Right now he just wanted to be safe.

So he left his rooms and headed for the only other place he knew of where he could find that safety.

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Steffen awoke to the soft sound of someone slipping into Vanyel's stall. He sighed and prepared himself to lead his Chosen out. The young boy was still suffering from nightmares of his father and the rather vicious beating he'd endured the day of his choosing. He knew Vanyel didn't mind their small visitor when the boy came seeking shelter, but still, Vanyel was sleeping soundly and he hated to wake the other Companion.

Needless to say he was utterly flabbergasted when he saw not his Chosen but Vanyel's.

Beside him Vanyel went onto his knees in the straw. Steffen was a bit surprised-he hadn't expected a young man of Conrart's age to come and sleep in his Companon's stall. The young Herald threw him a curious glance, and then shifted his gaze over to Vanyel. He didn't know what his life-bonded had said to the boy, but he came forward and settled himself lightly against Vanyel's shoulder, curling up inside his cloak.

A minute later he was asleep.

Steffen went to his knees and lay down beside Vanyel, curious about what could have driven a man who was over 135 winters old to seek the comfort of his Companion.

_: He may be almost 139, Steff, but in every way that counts he's barely older than you were when we first met.: _Vanyel informed him gently, before lowering his head back into the straw.

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Yozak sighed as he noticed that Conrart was following him yet again from a bit of a distance. This was getting damned annoying. It was clear that Conrart wanted to reestablish their friendship, but it was also clear his stubborn proud prince was not quite ready to yet.

He took a deep breath and decided to take the first step towards repairing their relationship, which was going to be interesting since his friend's pride was just as prickly as either of his brothers- he was just better at hiding it. To make matters worse, Yozak still felt anger rising to consume him every time he thought about Ambermoon, and the few times he'd actually seen Conrart and Ambermoon together he wanted to kill something.

He turned and headed over towards his friend. To his slight amusement, Conrart turned and walked away. When he sped up, so did Conrart; it would have been funny if he wasn't so aggravated by the other man's behavior. He picked up the pace and reaching out, he snagged his friend by the belt. It was time they settled this here and now.

To his surprise, Conrart twisted out of his grip, brought up his hand, and backhanded him – hard. "Unhand me this instant!" he all but shrieked.

Normally Yozak would have laughed and teased his friend about his shrill tone, but now he was too angry. Despite the herbal tea he had that morning, he reacted to the sharp pain with barely retained fury. _How dare Conrart strike him!_

He snarled and the next thing he knew Conrart was pinned face first to the wall, with the offending arm tucked up behind him. Suddenly horrified, he let go of his friend and fled. It was obvious that he needed another dose of tea.

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Conrart sighed as he watched his student's drilling through half lidded eyes. Kerowyn had stepped out leaving the class in his 'capable hands' and he honestly wished she hadn't as he was fairly certain he was about to fall asleep. The last 2 weeks had been hell, he and Yozak were officially fighting, and his driving need to placate Yozak before spreading his legs and letting the other man take him had driven him to keep their fight alive. He was furious with Yozak for his earlier comments, but he also craved the man's attention. Frankly his own behavior was alarming him of late. He wanted the other man's attention to the point that even negative attention would do, and he'd caught himself picking fights with his friend.

What was he three?

He sighed; this wasn't the time or the place to be contemplating his own strange psychosis. He pulled his attention back to the class, he'd give them a few more minutes to drill on their own and then he'd drill them individually.

"It's rather dangerous not to be paying attention to your surroundings." Said a voice he'd have recognized in a drugged sleep.

His eyes snapped open just in time to see Yozak's practice blade coming after him. He yelped and flung himself to the side, wondering just when he'd let his mind wonder again. He narrowly missed being brained by his friend's blade. He rolled to the side and up onto his knees a few feet away from the other man in a bid to buy himself enough time to draw his own weapon. The clash of blunt steel on blunt steel rang across the sallie as he caught Yozak's blade and turned it aside. He lunged to his feet and forced the other man back. Their blades rang in a familiar rhythm as Conrart tried to get his anger under control.

He knew what Yozak was trying to say with each stroke of his blade, but he was to angry to even consider the apology for what it was. He spun to the side neatly avoiding Yozak's thrust and brought his own blade down but his friend was ready for the move and to Conrart's extreme shock bound his blade and wrenched it from his hand.

Tonight was Beltane, and he already hadn't slept in more than 24 hours. He was exhausted, humiliated, and angry. He didn't stop to think before he did something so entirely stupid it bordered on suicidal. He snarled, lunged forward neatly avoiding Yozak's practice blade, and went for his friend with his bare hands.

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Yozak had just enough time to react; even half asleep Conrart was fast. He answered Conrart's challenge with a deeper more resonate snarl of his own, wondering briefly why Conrart's snarl sounded almost as if his voice had never dropped before putting it out of his mind and lashing out at his friend.

Conrart had issued a serious challenge – he'd never even heard the man do that in Rutt – and much as he hated the idea, his own Rutt meant he had no choice but to respond.

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Kerowyn held her head high as she marched back into the sallie, Herald I'Ryn at her heel, she hadn't wanted to believe it when one of the Bardic Trainees had come running into her office and informed her that Heralds Yozak and Conrart were currently engaging in an all out fist fight in the sallie. She was greeted by the jeering voices of the few Blues shouting "Fight, Fight, Fight;" the only other noise in the room was the sound of the two men snarling.

"Stop it this instant!" she shouted at the sight of them rolling across the floor.

The sound of tearing cloth was the only answer, as the sleeve of Yozak's whites gave way beneath Conrart's nails. They rolled across the floor scattering trainees and knocking over a weapons rack as they went before fetching up against the far wall. With a sigh she marched across the room and grabbed Yozak's shoulder to pull him off of the smaller man, ignoring I'Ryn's shouted warning.

"Yozak, knock it off." She snapped as she tried to pull the man off.

Yozak lashed out at her with one arm, sending her stumbling backwards, and snarled "This does not concern you!" in an almost feral tone.

She caught herself before she fell and watched in a mixture of annoyance and horror as Yozak somehow managed to flip Conrart over, without getting off of him, so that the man lay face down on the floor struggling to get up. Yozak pinned him deftly with one hand and shoved the man's long brown hair out of the way with the other. Then snarling like a rabid fox, he grabbed the collar of Conrart's shirt and tore it free with a single movement. Then he leaned in and nipped the now exposed skin at the back of Conrart's neck. He paused for a moment his teeth against his friend's throat and growled menacingly.

Conrart went limp beneath him and whimpered at the sound, clearly surrendering.

"Good boy." Yozak growled in the Mazoku tongue, "Now act like it." That said he got off of his friend's back and left. Calling "Talk to me again when you can behave like a person" over his shoulder as he did so.

Through it all Conrart remained motionless, climbing silently to his feet only after the other man had left.

Kero couldn't help thinking that the boy looked very much like a chastised puppy. The students sniggering in the background didn't help the image at all. She sighed, she wanted an explanation but she wasn't about to chew out a fellow Herald in front of a bunch of trainees. "Dismissed. All of you." She snapped noting with mild amusement that the Trainees fled as if terrified she'd bite them.

"I'll go talk to Yozak." I'Ryn said simply and walked out.

Conrart met her gaze, with his own and she noted briefly that the silver in his eyes was more prominent, the fact that he had slit pupils was also blatantly obvious. Idly she wondered if there was something wrong with him. "Explain now." She demanded as soon as the last of the students had left the room.

"It's none of your concern Kerowyn." He replied softly.

Kero raised an eyebrow, "You made it my concern when you got into a brawl while you were supposed to be teaching."

Conrart turned his back on her and righted one of the fallen racks, "You wouldn't understand." He insisted softly as he began to clean up the fallen weapons.

"Try me?" She demanded crossing her arms and watching him continue to clean.

Conrart paused, in what he was doing and then looked down at the ground his cheeks tinged red. "It's a dᴂmon thing Kerowyn you wouldn't understand."

"Tough because I'm not letting you out of this room until you explain yourself." She retorted. Then when Conrart looked like he was about to bolt, she walked over to him and gently squeezed his shoulder. "Make me understand Conrart." She said gently. She wasn't his mother, but right now the boy looked as if he could really use the advice of a female friend.

" I – Yoz-" he paused clearly at a loss.

Kero sighed, and walking across the room righted a bench that had been knocked over during his fight and sat down lightly patting the wood beside her. To her surprise Conrart came over without putting up even a token of a fight.

"We are lifebonded," he said softly. "Why do we have to be lifebonded? I don't want to lose my best friend."

Kero sighed, "Being lifebonded doesn't change the fact that Yozak is your best friend Conrart."

Conrart buried his face in his hands, "Yes it does." He said softly. "I – I don't want to have to think about him like that!"

"Those thoughts have nothing to do with being lifebound." Kero informed him gently, rather amused by his denial.

Conrart snorted, "I didn't think about him like this before… much." He replied, the last word so soft she barely heard him.

Kero tried desperately not to laugh as she retorted "You love him Conrart there is nothing wrong with that."

"Yes there is!" Conrart insisted his face white as the blood drained away. "I can't think of Yozak that way, I can't, it's wrong!"

Kerowyn reached out and grabbed his eloquent, finely boned chin firmly in one hand, "Why?" she demanded, "because of the difference in your ranks? You didn't strike me as the type to care about such petty things. So Yozak is peasant born while you are a _prince– yes I know who you are – _why should rank mater? Here of all places, when the circle could care less who you bed so long as both of you are willing and of age? What makes it wrong Conrart?"

Conrart shook his head almost franticly, "I'm in heat," he all but sobbed, "I can't deal with this. I – I don't want that but I –I can't stop thinking about Yozak and …_that."_

"Then stop fighting it Conrart, what will be, will be." She replied gently, and then suddenly understanding she added, "Yozak's not the type of man to take advantage of you, if you're not ready for the physical aspects of your feelings, tell him."

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Conrart swallowed, tonight was Beltane and he didn't want to be alone. Maybe he should take Kerowyn's advice. He needed to go and talk to Yozak. He stopped short of his friend's door, he could hear Yozak and I'Ryn's heated voices. He couldn't help the wave of jealousy that rose in his breast, and he realized with a flash of humiliation and shame that he was hissing.

He was confused by his own possessiveness – submissive didn't have the right to be possessive (Gwilherm had taken pains to teach him that). Not wanting to get caught and risk the outcome of Yozak's anger he turned and fled.

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"Just answer one thing" I'Ryn asked him almost gently "why did you bite Conrart?"

Yozak blinked, "When did I bite Conrart?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.

"When the two of you were fighting, you were on top of him and somehow managed to flip him over onto his stomach, you bared the back of his neck and bit down, while dropping your weight onto him and growling – rather menacingly I might add."

Yozak went beet red with humiliation before the blood drained away as he realized exactly what he'd done and the only possible outcome of it. Conrart was going to kill him, if not now then as soon as he went into Rutt. He couldn't believe he'd bitten the other man, Conrart wasn't a submissive, and a dominant sure as hell didn't discipline another dominant with his teeth – not if he wanted to keep them.

"Conrart is going to skin me." He moaned, "Before dousing me in vinegar."

"It can't be that bad." I'Ryn replied gently.

Yozak sighed, he didn't know if he could explain how badly he'd trespassed without explaining more then he really wanted to. He sat down on the edge of his coffee table, and looked at his friend for a moment before gazing down at the floor, to embarrassed to make eye contact. Conrart often teased him about his brazen nature, but even he had his limits.

"Demon's bite," he said simply. "It's natural for us, we're … mouthy I guess you could say." He could feel his skin heating up; until he was sure his face was redder then his hair. "However we only bite those who we're… intimate with."

"Are intimate with, or wish to be intimate with?" I'Ryn asked gently.

Yozak wasn't sure he could blush any harder but he made an attempt, "Are intimate with." He replied firmly. "I shouldn't have bitten Conrart, certainly not on the back of the neck like that. He's going to hate me."

I'Ryn raised an eyebrow, "It can't be that bad Yozak," she said softly. "The two of you have been friends for more than a century and I know you wish to be intimate with him."

"I treated him like an errant submissive," he moaned. "I don't think he'll forgive me that, particularly when I keep doing it!"

I'Ryn's eyebrow climbed higher until it had almost joined her hairline. "You keep doing it?" she enquired. "You mean you've bitten him before?"

Yozak groaned, he hadn't meant to share that. "Well no not _that, _but I keep treating him like a submissive. He's not a submissive. He's a dominant just like me, and you don't give another dominant a disciplinary nip. It's just not done. Great one I keep propositioning him with a purr and acting like he needs to be protected. Why do I keep treating him like he's a submissive who needs my protection? He may not be nearly as dominant as I am but he could still wipe the floor with me in a fair fight. And what's worse I keep treating him like he's _my_ submissive! Why in the hell do I keep doing that?"

I'Ryn sighed, "I can't answer that," she replied, before asking "are you sure Conrart isn't a Submissive?"

Yozak snorted derisively, and tried not to laugh _IF Conrart's a submissive then I'm the maou_ he thought dismissively. He looked up at his friend and shook his head, "No Conrart is not a submissive; he's not as dominant as I am, but he does go through Rutt."

"Is there any reason why you would be acting like this in regards to Conrart?" I'Ryn enquired.

Yozak thought about it for a moment, there was only one explanation for his behavior that he could think of, but Conrart was far too old, and he knew his friend to well for it to work. "If Conrart and I had been younger, and I had never seen him go through Rutt, then I would tell you that Conrart was likely a submissive with a mostly dominant personality. It's about as rare as males who can conceive, but it does happen."

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Conrart gazed at the flickering flames of the fire in his rooms, and wondered just how long it would take for the alcohol to take away the pain and the fear. He was so tired he just wanted to sleep, but he'd been lying awake, to terrified to close his eyes because he didn't want to relive his agony afresh or just too damned scared to sleep. For more than half a century, since he was 85, the only way he'd been able to sleep at this time of year - other than the onetime Gisela had knocked him out – was when he was held securely in Yozak's arms.

He took another swallow of the burning liquor and tried to forget. He wanted to escape, but he couldn't – he'd never been able to escape his memories. He knew it was stupid, he knew it was dangerous but if he couldn't escape them safely – maybe he could drown them, if only for an hour.

Slowly, over the course of several bottles his world began to fade into darkness. His last panicked thought before he passed out drunk, was that he'd forgotten to lock his door, and Gwilherm was going to come.

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A.N. please stay with us the whole dominant submissive thing will be properly explained soon. Conrart is highly confused thanks to Gwilherm. But Thing will eventually get sorted out. Also this will be moving into the M category in a few chapters. Please read and review.


	45. The ending of a friendship part 2 Mayday

Chapter 45: The ending of a friendship part 2: Mayday

_: Chosen, it's time to get up.: _

Conrart moaned as he rejoined the land of the living. His head was pounding in time with his pulse, and felt heavy. To top it all off, his throat felt like he'd swallowed a pound of sand. He was also fairly certain he was going to be sick.

If the smell was any indication - he'd already been sick at least once.

He barely made it to the trashcan before he lost what was left of yesterday's breakfast. He moaned, he really didn't want to face Mayday with a hangover, particularly not since he still had to teach a few classes today.

For that matter he was running late for his class.

_:Happy Birthing Day by the way Chosen: _Vanyel said gently as he ran off to class feeling very much like a late student rather than the instructor.

_:Thank you. : _He replied softly, whishing Vanyel hadn't reminded him.

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Conrart sighed as he headed across the palace grounds. He needed some form of release, a way to get away from the world. He needed to take his mind off of what was going on with Yozak. He needed to forget that today was the anniversary of both his birth and the most miserable day of his life. Hard formation riding should occupy his mind suitably. However he couldn't ask Vanyel, the stallion would never allow him to ride the obstacle course with such a bad hangover, and operating on about an hour of true sleep in the last 72 - all of it very early on day one.

Hell the stallion would likely scold him for the two glasses of ale he'd had after he'd finished his classes for the day. He wasn't drunk not by a long shot, just not entirely sober either.

No what he needed right now was a horse and in order to get that he needed to go to the stables where the ordinary horses where kept.

The walk didn't take long, and he knew he still had a few hours before darkness began to fall. He wanted to sleep tonight and at the moment it looked like the only way he was going to get that wish, would be if he passed out from drink (again) or from sheer exhaustion.

The latter seemed like the more intelligent course of action.

The inside of the stable was clean and smelled of hay, horse and leather – and nothing more. It had all the hallmarks of a good stable with happy healthy horses – not that he'd expected any different.

It didn't take him long to find Alex the stable master, and explain things. The man was a little surprised by his desire to ride something other than his Companion, but he understood his need to focus his attention on something else.

"How good of a rider are you m'lord Herald?" Alex asked mildly, "and I mean on a horse, not a Companion. The beauties may look like horses but I know they aint."

"I was an officer in the Calvary before I was Chosen." Conrart replied.

"Must be a good horseman to be an officer so young," Alex said thoughtfully, "you ever ride a horse that aint quite broken."

Conrart nodded, and Alex continued, "I have a horse here whose saddle broken, but she needs some time under saddle with an experienced rider before I let the kid she's meant for ride her. Would you be willing to put her through her paces? I'd do it myself but four of our hands are too drunk to stand this morning or off enjoying their Beltane marriages, and poor Peter has been sick as a dog for the past week."

Conrart inclined his head and followed the man down the row until they came upon a filly with a strawberry roan coat. He reached out a hand and let the horse get his sent. The horse seemed friendly enough. "How old is the child in question?" he asked softly.

Alex smiled "she be a little more than eight, m'lord. Would you be willing to give me an assessment of how the filly's coming along? She hasn't been exercised much this week and she can be a bit skittish."

Conrart smiled before replying, "I'll keep that in mind while I exercise the horse, and I'll tell you if there are any issues."

Alex smiled, "My thanks Herald, would you mind if I set you up with a bareback pad? She hasn't had much time without the saddle and bridal and I want to make sure she's safe to ride despite childish silliness."

Conrart hesitated; riding bareback probably wasn't a good idea at this point. Not hung-over and nearly dead on his feet from exhaustion. But at the same time he knew he could ride any horse, and it was simply to make sure the filly was safe for a small child to ride…

He sighed, "Bareback is fine."

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Conrart moaned as he sat up, the horse had scrapped him off of her back with the aid of a low hanging branch. His back ached from the impact that had simultaneously knocked the breath form his lungs and jarred him out of dreamland. "That's what I get for riding bareback in my condition," he muttered as he dragged himself to his feet. He glared at the retreating filly; the unexpected sound of his fall had startled the little thing enough that she'd taken off at a fast trot.

He was going to have a hell of a time catching the little horse on his own – he wasn't sure if it was the liquor he'd drunk after his last class, the hangover left over from last night, his continuing exhaustion, or if it was the fall, but he could hardly walk strait.

_Well this is embarrassing, _he thought.

_: Van?: _he called softly, _: are you busy?:_

_: Are you alright Chosen?: _Vanyel enquired, _: it felt like you just took a fall.:_

Conrart felt his face heat, how was he supposed to explain this to Vanyel?

_:You don't have to explain yourself to me, Chosen, I know you went horseback riding and honestly I don't mind. I wish you'd asked me first, since I'm capable of keeping you on my back regardless of how tired you are. But that's neither here nor there. I suppose you need help catching that little filly?:_

Conrart flushed, _:I'm afraid so.: _he replied dubiously.

_:I'll be right there Chosen.: _Vanyel replied mildly then added with good humor, _:don't go anywhere, with how tired you are I don't want you getting lost in the field.: _

Conrart snorted, but stayed where he was as Vanyel had requested, the stallion galloped up a few seconds later and he pulled himself carefully onto his bare back. Van may have been downright daintily built for a stallion, but he was still a bit larger than the filly he'd just fallen off of. Actually at 15.2 hands Vanyel was the smallest horse he'd ridden, since his father decided he was too old for a pony. The filly didn't count; Judging by her joints he was fairly certain she'd be a bit bigger then Van by the time she was done growing.

Van waited for him to find his balance before taking off after the filly, it didn't take long to catch up and Van led her easily back to the stables at a slow amble.

Alex raised an eyebrow at the sight of them, a smile spreading across his face as he suppressed his laughter. "How was she m'lord?" he asked.

Conrart answered him, easily assessing the horse's performance before Vanyel turned and headed towards the Heralds' wing of the palace. Conrart slid gracelessly off of his Companion's back when they came to a stop in front of the small side door used exclusively by Heralds to enter and exit the gardens.

_: Get some sleep Chosen: _Vanyel told him gently,_ : things will be better in the morning; and Chosen you should try and clear the air with Yozak. You'll both be happier if you do.:_

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Conrart sat curled up on his couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and a now mostly empty bottle of liquor in one hand. The night outside the window of his one room sanctuary of candle light was black as pitch. He jumped in alarm when the wind howled through the trees outside, and thunder crashed. He bolted to his feet nearly tripping over his blanket, and scrambled across the room to close and lock his shutters. He went back to the couch and curled in on himself, trying to force down the irrational fears. He looked around the room; every candle he owned was lit and lined almost every available surface in the room from his end-tables to his coffee table, and even ringed the couch with light.

Despite it all he could feel his heart racing, his breath coming in short shallow gasps, his head hurt, and his stomach rolled in a manner that had nothing to do with the three bottles of liquor he'd drunk since failing to fall asleep after Vanyel brought him back to the castle. On top of that his chest felt tight.

On some level some part of him knew he was having a panic attack. It was the same part of his being that was urging him to drop his shields to Vanyel and flee to the safety of the stables and the warmth, love and protection offered by his Companion. But he'd disturbed Vanyel's nightly activities enough since getting into his fight with Yozak, so he held onto his shields with a death grip that was only amplified by his terror.

The same part of him that urged him to cry out to his Companion urged him to call out to Yozak. To run to his friend and let Yozak sooth him until the panic attack eased and he slept for the first time in days. But he knew Yozak was still angry with him, so he huddled on the couch and tried to forget. Hoping the alcohol and the exhaustion would be enough to finally make him pass out.

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Conrart moaned as he crawled slowly back to consciousness, he wrinkled his nose in disgust as the sour smell of vomit assaulted his nose. A puddle of bile lay on the floor by the couch, bearing testament to last night's brush with stupidity, and the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since before Beltain. He was glad he didn't have to teach a class today his head was pounding. He slowly got off the couch and made his way across the room and leaned heavily against his bedroom door. Abruptly it swung inward the weight of his arm turning the handle – and he fell sideways through his door to land in an ungraceful heap on the floor.

Grumbling under his breath about never drinking again he climbed slowly to his feet with the exaggerated care of one who's not quite sober and knows it. From there he carefully made his way to his bedside table with its bowl and pitcher of water. He poured the water into the bowl and washed his face, pouring the last of the water in the pitcher into a cup and rinsing the horrid taste from his mouth before crossing the room to change into fresh whites.

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Vanyel snorted and stomped one silver hoof as he talked to his sister Jissa, enough was enough. This stupid altercation between Conrart and Yozak had to be put to rest before his chosen killed himself from stupidity. Van was well aware that Conrart's reactions were compounded by his Heat. He also knew the boy was terrified of what was an essentially natural part of his lifecycle and thus to afraid to explain things properly to Yozak. The end result was that Conrart was instinctively acting out in an attempt to gain Yozak's attention – the boy himself didn't even realize it.

Their decision made, and their plan formed Vanyel and Jissa went in search of the Gryphons, they needed the help of a mage, and while Van still had his mage gift – it was greatly diminished by his lack of hands.

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Conrart sat quietly on one of the bridges that spanned the river in a secluded part of Companions' Field. He'd climbed rather clumsily over the bridge hand rails over an hour ago and sat on the small lip on the other side where he was hidden from view. He just wanted to be left alone. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He was too tired to deal with anyone – hell he didn't even want to deal with himself right now. The turbulence of his current emotional state was beyond his ability to contain and well beyond his normal allowed emotional range. Normally he didn't allow himself this much of an emotional break – he kept himself on a short leash. It was the only way he'd been able to function since he turned 85. Since then his emotions had been too turbulent for him to deal with, so he'd forced them back and locked them all into a small mental box. It was the only way he could function in society around the blinding terror that had been screaming in his soul since that horrible night.

Sometimes he wondered if he should talk to a mind healer – but then he remembered what that would mean and he held his tongue. He didn't want to be medicated again and he really didn't want to even think about the other consequences of admitting what he'd allowed to happen.

It was almost noon now and he needed to go and actually clean up his rooms. He also needed to at least try to get a little sleep. He didn't think he was going to manage it but he had to try. He rose shakily to his feet, preparing to climb back over the railing and slipped.

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Yozak lounged across Jissa's back, his feet resting on the base of her tail, as the mare ambled through Companion's field headed in the direction of a seclude grotto by the river. He was rather enjoying the late morning sun as it warmed him from head to toe. Idly he wondered what Conrart was up to. On a day like this the former Captain of the Maou's guard would likely have been playing baseball with his godson if they were still in Shin Makoku, or (if his duty to king and country permitted) the two of them would likely be heading off for a quick ride through the country side to have lunch out by the lake he'd taken Conrart to just before his 95th birthday. The lake had always been their special place; Conrart's father had taken them both there a few times when they were just little boys.

He was rather abruptly pulled from his thoughts when he was hit with a wave of fear and suddenly Vanyel thundered past him as if Soushu*1 itself was at his heels, trumpeting an alarm. Quick as a ferret Yozak shifted around on Jissa's back and grabbed a double handful of her lush white mane before the mare launched herself into a gallop following hard on Vanyel's heels.

Yozak hung on, desperately trying not to think about what the oddly comforting feeling of water closing in around him meant for his best friend.

Clods of grass and dirt flew from Jissa's hooves as the mare skidded to a halt on the river bank. Vanyel was in the water his teeth clamped in the collar of Conrart's shirt, attempting to drag the young Herald bodily from the river. However the bank was to steep and the Companion simply could not climb out with the struggling burden clasped in his teeth, and it was too dangerous for the stallion to try to get further away from the steep banks by the bridge – he'd risked inadvertently drowning Conrart.

Yozak threw himself off of Jissa's back and into the water; he grabbed his friend under the arms and hulled him to safety with the help of both their Companions. He was terrified for his friend and his terror had only increased as Conrart's flailing grew weaker and less controlled.

His terror morphed into anger as soon as they were safe on the bank.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" he yelled as Conrart crouched on hands and knees coughing up water, and more Heralds began to appear. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Conrart didn't reply, not that Yozak expected him to with how much water he was currently spitting up. "And what the hell was that anyway? The Shinou be damned _water elemental _nearly drowned! For crying out loud Conrart you taught me to swim! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It was an accident," Conrart gasped as he climbed shakily to his feet.

"Accident" Yozak billowed, "Tondemo arimasen!*2 That was no accident; how the hell do you explain falling off a bridge with rails?"

Conrart flushed, "I climbed over it alright." He admitted after a moment, "I slipped when I went to climb back over; now leave me the hell alone Yozak, I'm cold and I'm wet and I am not having this conversation with you! It's none of your damned business anyway."

He turned and stalked away, but only got a few feet before he walked nose first into a solid wall of softly glowing pinkish magic. He whorled around glaring fit to drop a man at thirty paces and snapped "let me out of here this instant Yozak!"

"Oh, like I'm responsible for our being trapped in a fucking magic bubble!" Yozak retorted throwing his hands up in the air. "Last time I checked I wasn't a mage. Maybe you should ask your precocious Ambermoon to let you out so the two of you can share favors!"

Conrart gapped at him in shocked outrage for a second before replying "you fucking hypocritical asshole! You should talk when you've slept with more people in one year then I could in my entire life! I've said it once and I'll say it again _all Ambermoon did is give me a backrub! _And who I do or do not sleep with is none of your concern!"

"A Backrub?" Yozak spat derisively, "Is that what he called it? Tell me, do all of your backrubs end with you spreading your legs? You never did that for me."

Conrart sputtered, his jaw all but hitting the floor and for one long moment Yozak thought his eyes would fall out of his head. "If you're so hung up on what happened, here!" he snapped, shoving the memory of that encounter at Yozak in all its humiliating glory.

Yozak gasped as he finally surfaced from the memory that had been shoved down his throat; feeling Conrart's acute humiliation as if it were his own. "Conrart," he choked, "Conrart I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I should never have accused you, but I was just so enraged at the thought of him touching you."

His connection to the other man was raw, and painful, Conrart had literally shoved that memory through his shields; which should not have been possible to begin with. The end result was that in addition to a blinding headache, he could feel all of Conrart's churning emotions. The other man was _furious_… and scared. However curiosity also laced through the mental cord that he associated with Conrart.

"Exactly why does the thought of Ambermoon touching me enrage you?" Conrart spat after a second's hesitation, not bothering to turn around and face him.

"He can't touch you!" Yozak snapped, "You're mine damn it!"

Conrart spun around and he gapped at Yozak in shocked disbelief. "What gives you the right to claim me?" he all but growled.

Yozak nearly staggered from the weight of the emotions crashing onto him through his empathic connection to his best friend. Conrart was… pleased, yet terrified, shocked and angry, bemused and a little excited, but he was also defiant. Abruptly Yozak realized he was desperate to make Conrart accept him. He'd showed the other man his strength, his loyalty and his courage over the years, he didn't know what else he could do to make the man his. The hormones screaming through his veins demanded that he simply dominate the other man to show him he could and would protect him. The part of him that was rational however stepped firmly on the carnal impulse. In his desperation he didn't stop to think he just answered. "Damn it Conrart, I love you!"

Conrart scrambled backwards his eyes wide, "what?" he enquired.

Yozak looked down at the ground annoyed at his own stupidity and highly humiliated by what he'd just admitted. _In for a copper, in for a gold crown, _he thought then gathering his courage, he told the floor "I've always loved you." Tentatively he glanced up and took in his friend's expression.

Conrart looked like he was about to bolt. He backed up until his back hit the mostly transparent barrier that kept them confined. His eyes were wide as he spun around and pounded almost manically upon the wall of the bubble. "Let me out of here!" he demanded.

Alarmed Yozak took a few steps towards his friend, but stopped when it became clear he wasn't helping. "Conrart," he called gently, "Conrart stop it, you're going to hurt yourself."

Conrart looked at him for a minute, "I can't handle this." He said softly. "Not this, not you, I don't want to see you that way."

Yozak felt stricken, with those words Conrart had crushed the quiet hope he'd stupidly held for almost as long as he remembered. He swallowed, "Conrart, just forget I said anything."

Conrart looked at him wide-eyed and Yozak felt the other man's fear wash over him.

"How can I?" Conrart asked quietly. "It's not something that you can just take back! We'll never be the same now that, that is hanging between us."

Yozak felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. _Was this it? Was this how 12 decades of friendship ended; in a blaze of painful stupidity? Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut?_ He sighed, "It's been between us a long time Con," Yozak said gently.

"It changes everything!" Conrart replied almost shrilly, "The life bond I could handle, but this too, it's too much. I can't do this. I-I loved Gwilherm once and I – I thought he loved me. He hurt me! He said he loved me and he hurt me! I – I can't do that again. I can't, it hurt!" Yozak opened his mouth to respond but Conrart ran right over him. "You can't love me because, I can't love you like you deserve! I can't love you because if I don't you can't hurt me. I can't be hurt like that again Yozak, not by you – I – I'm not strong enough. I wouldn't survive it this time, not you, anyone else, but not you."

Yozak blinked, "Conrart" he said gently. "We're not lifebound -"

He would have said more but Conrart ran right over him again. "Yes we are! Everyone says so. Ambermoon made me see it!" Yozak couldn't help it, despite knowing nothing was happening between his friend and the Kestra'chern he growled at the sound of the other man's name. Conrart was so worked up he ignored his annoyed growl. "Even Vanyel agrees with him!"

"Conrart, -" he began gently but again Conrart interrupted him.

"Ask Jissa if you don't believe me!" Conrart yelled, before sliding down the side of the bubble to sit on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees. "Shinou, I – I can't do this."

Yozak gazed down at his currently hyperventilating best friend and contemplated what to do next. He wanted nothing more than to comfort his friend, but he sensed Conrart wouldn't appreciate his touch at the moment." He sighed. _: Jissa?: _

_: The two of you are lifebound, now help your friend.:_

Yozak sputtered; then gathering his courage he squatted down in front of his best friend. "I am not going hurt you. I'd never hurt you, Conrart I couldn't. You know that." He told his friend gently.

"I don't know anything right now Yozak," Conrart replied, "Just give me a second I – I need to think."

"Okay, I'll be over there when you're ready." He jerked his head at the other side of the bubble turned and walked away.

It was a good five minutes before Conrart spoke again, but it felt like an eternity, and he couldn't help wondering how Conrart could ever think he could hurt him.

"What would you expect from me?" Conrart asked softly his voice shaking.

Utterly confused Yozak replied. "I don't follow."

Conrart's reply was tentative, "in a relationship what would you expect?"

"I wouldn't expect anything Conrart."

Conrart looked skeptical, "Would you be willing to wait?" Conrart asked uncertainly, "I'm not ready. Shinou I'm not ready for -"

"Sex?" Yozak asked gently, pressing forward cautiously when Conrart nodded. "Conny, I wouldn't care if I was in Rutt and you're in Heat, if you are not ready for sex, I'm not going to pressure you. I sure as hell am not going to demand it from you."

Conrart glanced up at him his beautiful brown eyes searching his, and Yozak offered him a small smile, he knew full well that Conrart didn't go through Heat, but still if it made his point it was a useful analogy.

"Promise?" Conrart asked softly as he climbed to his feet.

Yozak smiled at him, "I promise you I will never hurt you, and I will never pressure you to do something you've told me you're not ready for. I love you too much."

Conrart took the few steps required to cross the bubble, and before Yozak – quite – realized what he was doing struck him across the cheek with an open hand. "I love you too." He said softly.

Yozak stood stock still for a second, too stunned to move – then he lunged forward and engulfed his friend in a bone crushing hug. Leaning in he kissed Conrart deeply, sliding his tongue into his mouth and exploring every inch of the hot cavern until the need for air broke them apart. Conrart blinked at him in surprise.

"You stuck your tongue in my mouth." He said, sounding aghast.

"You didn't seem to mind." Yozak replied cheekily, as the bubble finally melted away.

_: Finally.: _Vanyel and Jissa said in unison, as Yozak leaned in and Kissed Conrart again.

They broke apart a short time later and Yozak realized – belatedly that the other man was shivering, he also realized Conrart smelled of alcohol, and looked rather like he hadn't seen the soft side of his bed in a week.

Scratch that it looked like he hadn't seen his bed period in a week.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked quietly.

Conrart blinked at him and went back to leaning against his chest, "three, four, maybe five days… I don't remember."

Yozak sputtered, "Why haven't you been sleeping?" he asked as he scooped the obviously exhausted man up into his arms.

Conrart snuggled up against his chest, getting comfortable. "Beltane and Mayday." He replied sleepily.

Yozak froze, realizing with more than a little bit of horror what day it was. Yesterday was Mayday, one of the two days of the year Conrart hated more than anything. Conrart had been born during the wee hours between Beltane and Mayday.

He'd missed the other man's birthday.

Well he felt like shit.

"Let's get you into bed and get a healer to look at you." He said gently, turning to walk away only to stop when he came face to face with I'Ryk. The healer draped his cloak over Conrart, "Get him into bed before he catches his death of cold Herald, my wife or I will be by to check on him after he's gotten some sleep."

Yozak nodded, and continued walking.

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"I don't get it," Val said softly "I thought you said the spell wouldn't go down until they'd worked out their differences."

"Ssso did I," Treyvan trilled in reply, "perrrrhapsss my magic is ssslipping in my old age?"

Kero laughed, "It worked just fine, in Shin Makoku nobles propose by striking their lover's left cheek with the palm of their open hand. Conrart asked Yozak to marry him."

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AN. There you have it the end of a lifelong friendship as they know it.

And let me tell you probably one of the best ways to "end" a friendship.

*1Soushu according to Ken Murata, is a formless being which has all negative emotions of humanity. Due to its state, it can easily enter the hearts of people who have negative feelings.

*2Tondemo arimasen - bullshit/far from it.


	46. Conrart's WHAT!

Chapter 46: Conrart's WHAT?

Yozak glanced down at Conrart, as the other man nestled against his chest, his eyes closed so that he could almost think the other man was already asleep. However the rhythm of his breathing was all wrong for that. "My rooms or yours?" he asked gently.

Conrart opened his eyes and looked up at him, "Yours" he said softly "mine are a disaster."

Yozak smiled, "alright." He refrained from voicing his disbelief at the idea of Conrart's rooms ever being anything less than immaculate.

It didn't take long for him to make his way back to his rooms, but by the time he got there the other man was mostly asleep in his arms. He opened the door carefully so that he didn't disturb the precious burden in his arms. He kicked the door closed as he made his way into his living room and gently set Conrart down on the couch. Conrart blinked up at him, before closing his eyes again, not quite awake but not quite asleep either. The thought of waking the other man enough for him to get dried off and slip into clean dry clothing was almost painful.

He turned and headed for the bedroom to get something dry for his friend to wear.

"Don't leave me." Conrart's voice was soft and pleading.

Yozak paused, turned around and leaned down to kiss his friend's forehead. "I'm just going to get you something dry to slip into so you can get some sleep; I'm not going anywhere I promise."

Conrart looked up at him for a moment and then nodded. Yozak offered him a smile before heading into his bedroom. Quickly he grabbed a towel from among his toiletries, and grabbed two sets of sleeping clothes, then tossed the second pair of pants onto his dresser – they'd only fall off of Conrart. That decided he set the rest of the clothing onto the bed in a neat pile, the towel he slung over his shoulder before headed back out to where his best friend was waiting on the couch.

He paused briefly when he realized, Conrart wasn't his best friend any longer – at least not just his best friend – he was his fiancé.

Conrart was mostly asleep on the couch by the time he got there; curled up in the throw blanket he kept on a nearby chair. Yozak couldn't help thinking that he looked almost angelic, despite the fact that he was shivering. It didn't take him long to pull the other man out of the now wet blanket. Conrart blinked at him, his eyes distant and Yozak threw caution to the wind. Deftly he peeled off his fiancé's sodden clothing (undergarments and all) and set about drying him off, pausing to stare in mild alarm at the sight of Conrart's bruised back. He made a mental note to apply some salve to those bruises before he put the smaller man to bed. Other than that he resolutely kept his eyes forward – he didn't have Conrart's permission to look after all.

Carefully wrapping his friend in the towel he led him into the other room and made him sit on the edge of the bed while he gently saw to his bruises before he helped Conrart into the oversized nightshirt – that hung past his knees. That accomplished he set about towel drying the other man's beautiful hair before tucking him into bed. Briskly he stripped, and slipped into dry night clothing before sliding into bed himself. He gathered his still shivering friend in his arms to help warm him, but after a few minutes it became apparent that wasn't going to work so he did the only thing he could think of to warm his friend up quickly.

He stripped them both to the skin and pulled Conrart back into his arms, so that the other man's ass rested against his groin.

Conrart made a soft almost mewing noise of contentment as he drifted off to sleep, and Yozak – belatedly -realized he was purring softly at the other man; but somehow his own animalistic tendencies didn't seem to faze him. Conrart was his – and as soon as enough time had passed he was going to mark Conrart as his Mate so that the world could see the little brunette belonged to him and him alone. But they still had several seasons of hormone frenzied intercourse before he could make Conrart submit to him mind, body and soul.

He'd have to wait until their next season to start the slow process of making Conrart his. For now however he was content just to have the other man in his arms and a few minutes later he followed Conrart into the arms of sleep.

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Yozak moaned as he slowly awoke from his nap. He shifted his hips forward instinctively and his eyes snapped open in alarm at the soft mew of content that came from the man under him as the head of his throbbing penis brushed lightly against his friend's backside. Below him Conrart was mewing soft encouragements and whimpering piteously as he slowly raised his hips in a silent request. He rolled off of Conrart, ignoring the soft chirps of protest the other man made at the loss of contact between them. The soft chirps gave way to needy and plaintive little mews as Conrart coiled his lithe body against Yozak's chest, writhing against him like Conrart was a cat and just discovered Yozak was catnip.

Alarmed he moved away in an attempt to get a better look at the man, to gage if he should call for a healer, only to have Conrart slither back up against him. Most alarmingly, Conrart was still asleep. He glanced at the time candle, before deciding if he should call a healer. Four hours had passed since they'd gone to sleep, one of the healer's should be popping up shortly but still he wanted to make sure Conrart was alright, particularly since the last time he'd heard noises like that, had been during the war when Olof had gone into Heat. Since nearly every other man in the platoon had been in Rutt at the time … well it had been interesting.

He reached out with his mindspeach only to feel Elizabeth heading towards them, with that problem settled he climbed out of bed and pulled on his sleeping pants, before climbing back onto the bed and pulling his squirming fiancé into his arms. "Easy," he whispered soothingly into his friend's ear. "What's with you today? If I didn't know better I'd think you were in Heat."

Conrart opened his beautiful brown eyes and gazed up at him his slit eyes swirling with molten silver flecks. The smaller man made a soft mewling noise, and arched his back like a cat.

Yozak was too busy trying to grasp the fact that Conrart's eyes were changing color to truly notice the not so subtle invitation. The only reason he could think of why Conrart's eyes would be changing colors was the Pair-bonding ritual, but that took days if not weeks to complete and they hadn't been alone in a room together without fighting long enough to even attempt the first stage of the long and complicated ritual. That and the small fact that the only people who knew the ritual in its entirety before either being married or mated were healers – since the ritual was usually for procreation. Regardless of gender a Mazoku was simply incapable of becoming pregnant without first being Pair-bound. That was one thing that actually made Conrart extremely rare if not unique among half-breeds – his father was human.

All Mazoku had flecks of color in their eyes, in most the difference in shade was a subtle one. Conrart's however were rather obvious. In human territory Yozak's hair marked him as Mazoku, for Conrart the giveaway had always been his eyes.

Now the flecks of silver in Conrart's eyes were widening, so that his eyes almost looked liquid silver. He didn't know why it was happening and that alarmed him.

Maybe it had to do with a lack of sleep… or knowing Conrart the man had probably forgotten to eat over the last few days… he was sure it was nothing serious.

He'd ask Elizabeth about it when she got there.

"Come in," he called when Elizabeth knocked on the door.

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Elizabeth smiled at the two men she'd come to think of as friends, and tried desperately not to gag at the scent that permeated the room. She'd mostly been avoiding Yozak since he'd gone into Rutt, largely because the scent he was producing was - well kind of disgusting actually. It wasn't the smell itself that was off-putting just that the man smelled as if he'd bathed in it. If it hadn't been for the fact that Conrart was less than likely to let her husband anywhere near him – she'd have asked I'Ryk to come instead. Her nose was so sensitive Yozak's musk actually made her nauseous.

"Geez Yozak, when was the last time you aired out your rooms?" She demanded, as she crossed the room and threw open a window.

Yozak snorted, "About three weeks ago." He replied mildly at the same time as Conrart informed her "I think it smells fine – actually I think it smells divine."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow; "divine" was pushing it.

She smiled, "it's good to see the two of you getting along again." She said mildly. They both flushed at her mild jab and she made her way over to the bed. "How are you feeling Conrart, I hear you had an unexpected bath?" Conrart turned an interesting shade of red and opened his mouth to reply.

"Enough of that," she added sharply to Yozak when the man started to growl as she got closer to Conrart. "He needs to be examined."

Conrart gazed up at her for a moment, "I'm fine," he said softly. "Van made sure I didn't drown -" he shifted his gaze to Yozak endeavoring to look convincing and just coming off as adorable. "And you, got me out of the river before I was in for very long, I don't need to see a healer," he added.

Yozak raised an eyebrow, "true, if you had only fallen in the river, I'd likely give in and just keep you in bed like an invalid. However you need to have a healer look at that bruise you're calling your back."

Elizabeth raised one finely arched brow, "Exactly what did you do to yourself this time? Scratch that; how did you do it?"

Conrart flushed, after a minute he replied "I had an equestrian accident," with great dignity.

"You fell off of a horse?" Yozak demanded incredulously. "How drunk were you?"

Conrart made a soft noise, like a cat whimpering, and attempted to look innocent. "What makes you think I was drunk?" he asked.

"I've seen you stay in a saddle half dead and exhausted from battle. By your own admission you could ride before you could walk Conrart." Yozak replied crossing his arms and giving the other man a look.

Conrart turned his gaze to the quilt that covered his lap, "I passed out drunk the night before and I'd had a few drinks before I went out for that ride, okay?"

Yozak opened his mouth to reply but she cut them off, worried that they would spiral right back into their previous fight. "That's neither here nor there," she said mildly. "The point is Conrart injured himself, and needs to have his back looked at in addition to the physical he'd been avoiding, so we might as well get started." She smiled slightly when Conrart squeaked at the mention of the physical.

"Strip and lie-down on your stomach," she told him firmly.

Conrart backed away from her and gave Yozak an almost pleading look.

The other man smiled at him gently, "on your stomach." He said firmly in reply.

Conrart made a noise that sounded somewhere between a mew and a whimper, but did as he was told turning over so that he lay on his stomach his side pressed against Yozak's thigh.

Elizabeth sighed, Conrart was notoriously body shy around Healers, and he was generally okay as long as he was wearing pants; the second they came off however the man nearly panicked. "Conrart I need you to actually undress," she said gently, "you left without getting a physical and have neglected to come and see me for the one you were supposed to get when you returned from duty, so drop your pants because I am not leaving here without giving you a thorough checkup."

Conrart whimpered and shrank closer to Yozak, who simply pulled down the covers, revealing Conrart's nude body for her inspection. She briefly wondered if she should leave them alone for a minute to get cleaned up – but rather quickly dismissed it when she realized the scent in the room was wrong for that. She took a step closer to the bed to begin her examination only to freeze at the sound of the low menacing growl Yozak was currently making.

He leaned forward, and planted a hand on the smaller mans back – only his fingertips touching the abused flesh. His message was clear – _back off, mine._

She groaned and reminded herself that in season males of any species where rarely rational where their mates are concerned. She rolled her eyes and reaching out; bopped Yozak on the nose in the same manner one would scold an uppity puppy. "Stop that!" she said firmly. "Now go put some water on, I have some tea Conrart needs to drink to make sure he doesn't get sick from that cold dunking. While you're at it go get the boy some sleeping clothes."

Yozak blinked at her, a bemused expression on his face before leaning down and lightly kissing the back of Conrart's neck. Elizabeth was in just the right spot to notice Conrart's silent response. The boy squirmed slightly and spread his legs mewing softly in reply. Yozak lightly caressed Conrart's backside before going to do as he'd been told.

Conrart whimpered softly at the loss of contact and buried his face in one of the plush pillows.

With a snort of amused dismay she moved closer to Conrart and sniffed lightly at the air. The sent was fainter then Yozak's musk and vaguely sweater. However she recognized the scent that laced Conrart's – the man was in heat.

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Yozak stared around Conrart's rooms in open mouthed dismay. The stubs of what he would guess to be every candle Conrart owned lay in a circle around the sofa, lining every surface at least four candles deep. Wax coated the wooden floor and the surface of the tables in mute testament to state of mind Conrart had been in the night before. The blanket that dangled precariously off the edge of the sofa was a clear indication that Conrart had slept there.

He had to admit he was rather startled; when they were younger Conrart had gone through a phase where he'd been unable to sleep without a candle burning. However he'd thought the other man had outgrown that faze long ago. It appeared he'd been wrong. The only reason he really even remembered that faze was because of how out of place it had been. While it was true all children went through it at some point in their lives Conrart's age had made it stand out. One didn't usually enter such a faze when they were the human equivalent of 13.

The room reeked of alcohol, and stale vomit.

It was enough to make him gag.

Carefully he picked his way across the floor until he could throw open the shutters and let some in air. The vrondi came willingly to his call creating a strong breeze to air out the rooms, the breeze would only last for about a quarter of a mark but that should be long enough to reduce the foul stench. That accomplished he made his way over to Conrart's wardrobe and liberated a clean set of sleeping clothes, two pairs of small-clothes and a clean set of whites for the man to wear when they resumed their duties tomorrow. Empty and mostly empty bottles of alcohol littered the floor intermixed with the occasional partly full bottle, and Yozak wondered exactly how Conrart had managed to function the last few days.

He set the clothing he was carrying down on top of Conrart's vanity beside his hair brush and began to quickly gather up the bottles and tossed them into Conrart's trash can. Conrart would be mortified if anyone else saw his room in its current state. So he was going to at least clean up the bottles and candles before some gossip came in here to clean up and decided Herald Conrart was involved in some weird rituals or something.

It took him the better part of 20 minutes to clean up Conrart's rooms, and when he left it was still nowhere near Conrart's usual standards. However the bottles and vomit had been cleaned up and the wax had been scraped from the floor and other surfaces; over all the room looked much neater then it had when he first arrived. He walked back over to the sofa and picked up the quilt that dangled off of it wrinkling his nose in mild disgust when he realized Conrart had vomited on it some point in the night. Carefully he bundled up the quilt and tossed it onto the neat pile of soiled bedding on the floor before moving over to Conrart's desk to write the maids a quick note, explaining the vomit spattered bedding away by simply saying his friend had been ill. With a sigh he walked over to the wash basin and washed his hands before gathering up Conrart's clothing and leaving the room, deftly tucking his note to the maids into the name plate on the door where they would see it.

Elizabeth was waiting for him in his living room when he returned, and he was very grateful he'd put the water on before leaving to go and get Conrart some clean clothing. He set the clothing down on one of his end tables when he noticed the healer's serious expression. He'd never seen Elizabeth look so serious and it worried him, particularly when he considered what he'd just seen in the other man's rooms.

"What is it?" he asked.

Elizabeth looked at him for a minute and Yozak could feel her unease. She was worried, deeply worried. "How much longer is your Rutt?" she asked after a second.

Yozak blinked startled by the question, he hesitated before answering curious as to the relevance of the question. "About two weeks."

"Did you have sex with Conrart, earlier today?" she asked gently.

Yozak sputtered, not sure where this line of questioning was going and not entirely sure it was any of her business. "No," he replied shortly. "Why?"

"I didn't think so," Elizabeth replied "Do you have enough control while in Rutt not to take someone in heat?"

Yozak felt as if she'd struck him. "I am not an animal!" he retorted sharply.

"I didn't think you where," she replied gently. "However some Change-children can't control the urge to mate when faced with another in heat. I wanted to be sure it's not the same with you."

Yozak sighed, "I'm a dominant male, when I'm in Rutt my instinct is to find a mate and well mate. However I have a secondary instinct to protect that mate, form anything – including myself. It means that even without my tea I can control myself in regards to my mate enough not to force them if they don't want to have sex. Why?"

"Can a person who goes through Rutt, go through Heat as well?" she asked ignoring his question.

Yozak suppressed the urge to growl, he was about an hour late taking his tea, and he was finding her line of questioning aggravating. "No a person who goes through Rutt can't go through Heat. Why?" the soft sound of his bed creaking alerted him to the fact that Conrart had gotten up.

"Are you aware of the fact that Conrart is in season?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

The soft sound of Conrart gasping from behind the bedroom door told him his friend was eavesdropping. _Yancha, _he thought mildly, _Anata ga nani ka o shiyou to shite iru baai wa machigatte torawarete wa _ikenai. * "I sort of figured he was in pre-Rutt he's been ridiculously aggressive lately."

Elizabeth sighed, just as the door opened a crack. "Yozak how sure are you that Conrart goes through Rutt?"

Yozak snorted, "Very I've seen him go through it a few times now."

"Is there any reason why a man from your culture would fake a Rutt if they went through Heat?" she asked.

Behind the door Yozak heard Conrart gasp, "No," he replied calmly "there is no reason why a Submissive would pretend to be a Dominant. Both are entirely socially acceptable."

Elizabeth rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Yozak I don't know how to tell you this but Conrart is in Heat."

"What!" Yozak gasped in surprise, he honestly had not seen this coming.

His astonished shout almost drowned out the terrified little squeak that came from his bedroom and the sharp click of his door shutting. "I'd better go talk to him," Yozak said trying desperately to keep the growl out of his voice. _Why had Conrart lied to him?_

"I'm going to go and get the herbs Conrart needs; will you need more as well?" Elizabeth enquired as she headed for the door.

Yozak hesitated, he had enough tea to last him till the end of his Rutt but he hadn't been making it strong enough to deal with the carnal urges that would come with having a submissive literally in his bed at night. Now that he knew, his instincts wouldn't allow him to let Conrart sleep alone. His instincts demanded that he do two things with Conrart, now that the little submissive had agreed to be his: protect him and pound him into their mattress. However, Conrart had made it very clear earlier that the latter was out of the question – for now. "Could you bring me a bit more of the winter Savory and the licorice root?" The two would help lower his sex drive. "I need to increase the amount of both in my tea."

Elizabeth nodded, "will you be able to handle Conrart, or would you like me to talk to him?"

"No thank you, I can handle my - Conrart." He replied, blushing fiercely when he realized he'd nearly called Conrart his mate.

He couldn't help smiling as he picked up the clothing he' brought for Conrart and headed back into his bedroom. As much as it hurt to know Conrart had lied to him all these years, he couldn't help being glad the other man was a Submissive. Firstly it meant he hadn't been losing his mind. But secondly, and most importantly, it meant he wouldn't have to worry about hurting Conrart when he was in Rutt. He would have to struggle with another Dominant until one of them submitted and with how much smaller Conrart was he was likely to hurt him. As a Submissive however, the worst he was likely to do was nip him if he got out line and Conrart was entitled to nothing less than his love, care, protection and the safety of his embrace as he slept.

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Anata ga nani ka o shiyou to shite iru baai wa machigatte torawarete wa ikenai. - When you are going to do something, you mustn't be kept by mistake / if you are going to do something wrong, don't get caught.

Do not use any herbal remedy without first asking your medical practitioner


	47. 20 Questions

Chapter 47: 20 Questions

He froze when he entered the bedroom. Conrart sat in the middle of his bed, up by the headboard, knees drawn up to his chest; rocking slowly back and forth; fear rolling off of him in waves. "Conrart?" he asked gently.

Conrart looked up at him and swallowed. To Yozak's surprise he slid further down the bed and pulled off his nightshirt, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor before turning over. He lay with his face buried in a pillow and, after a moment's hesitation, spread his legs. For a moment Yozak just stood there his mouth hanging open in shock, he could see Conrart shaking from where he stood by the open door. He quickly closed the door; he didn't want anyone seeing Conrart like this. "Conrart, what are you doing?"

"_Please, _j-just don't make it any more painful than it has to be." Conrart replied, raising his head from the pillow long enough to speak.

"Then it has to be?" Yozak repeated with more than a little alarm.

"Just do it already," Conrart sobbed, "I'm in Heat; I know my place, just get it over with."

Yozak moved slowly to the bed and set down the clothing he was holding. "Your place?" he enquired gently. "Conrart you don't have a place." He said firmly then took a deep breath, and added in a gentle tone. "I won't deny what you're offering is extremely tempting, I want you Conrart. I want to feel you around me, but not like this. Never like this."

Conrart's only response, was to draw his knees up under him, his legs still spread wide and raise his beautiful, toned ass in the air.

Appalled and horrified Yozak got up and headed over to his dresser. Conrart's hair was a rat's nest and he needed to do something to distract himself from the fact that Conrart was almost certainly still a virgin and thus the beautiful and likely extremely tight ass he was offering up for Yozak to plunder had never been explored by anyone. Working the knots out of the other man's hair should be a way to help him ignore the thoughts that kept popping up in his mind. Thoughts of Conrart calling out in ecstasy as Yozak touched him in intimate ways he'd never experienced before. He wanted to spill his seed into Conrart's body, and feel his lover's body tightening around him as they both climaxed – but not like this.

"Sit up Conrart." He said firmly as he sat back down upon the bed, brush in hand.

Conrart sat up; tucking his feet underneath his body so that he rested on his knees and the balls of his feet, his butt raised in a manner that Yozak realized would allow him to be taken without much work. "You can actually sit down Conrart," he said mildly as he began to comb out the long, tangled mane of hair. Conrart's hair was so tangled it was going to take a lot of careful teasing just to free the feathers and beads that accentuated its ethereal beauty. It would give him time to put his own raging libido back in its box and figure out what had gotten into the smaller man. He doubted Conrart had become ready for sex in the hours that had passed since their earlier talk in the damned pink bubble.

Conrart turned his head and watched him as he gently began to work out the tangles. "You're really not going to make me?" he asked carefully and after a moment's hesitation he added. "Now that you know I'm in Heat?"

"What does your heat have to do with you being ready Conrart?" he asked.

Conrart looked at him like he'd lost his mind before replying, "But I'm submissive, and I'm in _Heat_. Submissive are made to be fucked Yozak."

"Only when you want it, Conrart, and not a moment before," Yozak stated firmly. "Honestly, where did you get such an idea?"

Conrart looked at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Olaf took every Rutting man in the platoon, until I put my foot down." He said after a minute.

"Olaf, was taking at least 3 guys a night before he went into heat Conny." He paused and then added, "Hell I've known the man for years, and to be frank he slept his way through military school."

Conrart bit his lip, "You're honestly not going to make me?"

Yozak sighed, "No I'm not. I will never force you to do anything you are not ready for."

"Can I put some clothing on then?" Conrart asked after a second; doing so as soon as Yozak answered in the affirmative.

Yozak sighed; glad that they'd straightened that up, at least he knew where Conrart's misconceptions came from. Olaf had been loose long before the war, and tended to take as many men as he could while he was in heat. However he did wish Conrart hadn't witnessed it. The war had been hard and just about every man in the army had gone into Rutt particularly those that had seen combat.

The raw aggression of war surging through their veins had meant that their seasons frequently lasted a year or more. Olaf had been the sole submissive in their platoon and he had happily taken almost every man at least once. He'd also made himself into the 'prize' the other men could win, as he tended to service the highly dominant males and those who performed better in combat with far more frequency.

Now that he thought about it, Conrart had stayed the hell away from the man. At the time he and everyone else had just put it down to the fact that their captain had only just reached the age where his first season should be imminent.

No wonder Conrart was confused; if that was the first time Conrart had seen a Submissive in the throes of Heat … he didn't want to think about the impression that would have made.

Abruptly he realized he'd been very overprotective of the other man during the war, starting about 6 months into their year and a half on the front lines. That was also when he'd started insisting Conrart share his bedroll. "Conrart," he asked after a second, "were you in Heat during the war?"

Conrart squeaked.

"I'll take that as a yes," Yozak said gently as he continued to run the brush through his friend's hair.

"It was so hard to hide it, I was scared," Conrart admitted quietly. "I didn't want to be used like Olaf was."

The snarl that tore its way out of him was positively feral. The very idea of Conrart with his pants down, straddling someone else's lap while they pounded into his body in a Rutt induced frenzy was sufficient to make him mad enough to kill.

Conrart deserved far better than that.

He deserved someone who would love and cherish him.

He took a deep breath and got himself mostly under control. "They would have died by my hand before they ever came close." He assured Conrart gently but firmly, the undertone of a feral growl still present in his voice.

"Then I'm even more thankful none of them ever tried. We were under manned as it was, we didn't need to start killing off our own." Conrart replied softly.

Yozak couldn't help it, he snorted.

"Gwendal gave the executive order to have everyone in Heat pulled out of combat. Why didn't you leave with Olaf and our wounded?"

"How could I?" Conrart asked after a moment's hesitation. "Following that order meant I not only had to admit I was in Heat, but allow someone else to take over our unit and we both know I was the only officer who'd have given a damn if none of us came home."

Yozak sighed, "I guess you're right," He said after a second's thought, gently working a piece of feather and clear crystal bead hair jewelry out of Conrart's tangled tresses. "I understand why you did it, but I still would have been happier with you safely off the field. You were too young to be there in the first place."

Conrart accepted the hair piece once Yozak had finished working it free, and gazed down at it for a moment. "Neither were you." He replied softly.

"I was closer to it then you, you've only been old enough since your last season, and I've been old enough for the last two." Yozak replied with mock arrogance.

"Very funny," Conrart retorted with better humor then he'd displayed in the past two weeks.

Yozak smiled, there were a lot of questions he now had to ask Conrart, all of them personal and all of them designed to expose his sexual history. Some of them he wouldn't insult his friend by asking. He'd been taught the questions long ago when he'd first been sent to military school and despite having slept with a submissive in heat before; he'd never bothered to use them.

But this was different, this was Conrart. This was the man he was planning to make his mate. As such the questions had become necessary. He was just a little leery of actually asking them. He didn't know how Conrart would react, hell he didn't even know if submissives were taught the questions they would one day be asked. However he was the only person who knew Conrart even went through heat, so the other man must have learned them himself at some point. He took a deep breath and continued gently working the tangles from his friend's hair. "Hey Conrart," he asked after a second. "You ever have sex with a woman?"

Conrart snapped out of his sleepy daze and turned his head. "No. Why?"

That settled his silent debate then, Conrart was, shaych. "Have you sired any children?"

"I just told you I've never had sex with a woman, how could I have gotten one pregnant?" Conrart retorted.

"Well what about a man?" Yozak replied mildly, "Have you ever taken another man?"

"No," Conrart squeaked.

Yozak took a breath before asking his next question, he was fairly certain he already knew the answer, and he didn't want to insult his friend. "Have you ever had another man's seed inside of you?"

"_No!" _Conrart replied sharply.

"What about another man's penis?" Yozak enquired, "Have you ever allowed another man to take you?"

"_**No!" **_Conrart shrieked. "Why are you asking me this?"

Yozak sighed, the questions were designed to be long and drawn out. Designed to make the submissive uncomfortable and trap them in any lie so that their partner, would be able to get a thorough picture of their sexual history. That was also why he wasn't allowed to answer Conrart's questions right at the moment. He sighed and gently squeezed his friend's shoulder. "I'll explain as soon as we're done." He replied gently.

Technically he was supposed to ask Conrart if he'd ever been pregnant at this point, but he saw no reason to ask that stupid of a question. Firstly the chances of the other half-breed even being able to conceive were all but non-existent. Secondly Conrart would not have hidden it from him if he ever had been and thirdly this would be Conrart's first true heat, and thus the first time he could get pregnant - although it wasn't exactly considered safe for Conrart to conceive at this point.

"Have you ever touched a woman sexually?" Yozak enquired.

Conrart hesitated, "Yes," he answered after a second.

Well there went the shaych theory.

"Once," Conrart continued, "it was…unpleasant."

Then again maybe not

"Have you ever orally stimulated someone?" he asked after a second.

"No!" Conrart yelped his cheeks heating.

"Have you ever been touched sexually?" Yozak asked gently. "Other than by me, that is?"

Conrart gapped at him, sputtering inarticulately before nodding his head and saying "yes" in a very small voice.

Yozak set down the hair brush and began to braid his friend's now detangled hair. "By a man or a woman?" he enquired softly, trying not to growl at the thought of anyone else running their hands across Conrart's beautiful skin.

"Man," Conrart's reply was cautious as if he was scared to reply.

Yozak blinked, that wasn't the answer he would have expected, Conrart had been too young for that sort of thing when he'd dated Gwilherm. At this point he was supposed to ask his friend how many other partners he'd had and when and how long his last relationship had been, but he didn't see the point and Conrart was getting more and more antsy. So he simply summed those questions up into one. "Have you had any boyfriends or lovers between Gwilherm and me?"

"No" Conrart replied in a firm voice.

Yozak would have asked more but Elizabeth had returned.

"Yozak, why don't you make some tea for Conrart and yourself, while I tie up some loose ends with my patient?" Elizabeth said in a tone that made it clear she wasn't asking.

He smiled at his fiancé, and quickly finished braiding his hair, binding it back with a thin strip of white leather. He leaned in and kissed Conrart's neck gently. Then he stood up and left the room.

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Yozak made his way back into the bedroom carrying a tray with a bowl full of the stew the cooks always made daily in case any Herald or trainee fell ill. He'd honestly been a bit amused by the sight of the stew, Conrart wasn't exactly ill, but he'd told the page to ask the cook to provide something for someone who hadn't eaten much of anything in the past few days. Apparently the cook felt Conrart would be better off with stew then with the fish they were having for dinner that night.

Pity, Conrart loved fish – it reminded him of his father, since the man had often fished to feed them on their travels together.

Conrart was sitting up in bed propped up by pillows, and covered in blankets like an invalid. Elizabeth paused on her way out to gaze briefly at him before she asking; "Yozak, why don't you let me take care of the bruise on your cheek?"

Yozak blinked, _he had a bruise on his cheek? _He realized what she was talking about when she reached for his left cheek. He stepped back out of her reach. "That won't be necessary thank you." He said briskly, "Conrart went through the trouble of proposing, the least I can do is bare his mark."

Elizabeth gave him a startled look, "This a demon thing isn't it?" she enquired rhetorically before turning to leave the room with a shake of her head adding "I'll be by to check on you tomorrow morning Conrart," as she left.

Yozak smiled and set the tray down across Conrart's lap, carefully liberating his own mug of tea from the tray and setting it on the nightstand. His best friend, he noticed was staring at his meal in silence, "eat," he said gently "or do you need me to feed you?"

Conrart didn't acknowledge the jab; in fact he just continued to gaze vacantly down at his food. Yozak picked up the spoon, and dipped it into the stew. Conrart would snap out of it as soon as the spoon hit his lips.

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Conrart felt funny, he couldn't really place the odd feelings bubbling up inside of him. It was distinctly odd, and it pulled him towards Yozak. He was afraid; he didn't quite know what was going on.

Rather abruptly he snapped out of his daze and realized Yozak was feeding him. Embarrassment flooded through him, and he caught Yozak's arm by the wrist before the other man could stick the spoon into his mouth again. "Why are you feeding me?" he asked after a second.

Yozak smiled, "You need to eat and you seemed distracted." He said as he easily freed his wrist from Conrart's grasp. "You have not eaten in a few days, and your health and happiness are now my responsibility."

"Why?" Conrart enquired "What makes it your responsibility?"

"We're engaged," Yozak replied as if that answered everything and casually stuffed the spoon into his mouth.

"Yozak," Conrart whined as soon as he'd swallowed the spoonful of stew.

Yozak leaned in and gently kissed him on the forehead, "It's mostly gone now anyway," he said gently. "So why don't you let me have the pleasure of caring for you. I know you can eat on your own but let me take care of you just this once."

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"Here," Yozak smiled softly as he handed Conrart his mug of tea and sipped quietly at his own. "Drink, it will help with the symptoms of your heat." He was pleased to note that Conrart's eyes were rapidly returning to their original color now that he'd eaten. Rather abruptly he realized he'd completely forgotten to ask Elizabeth about that.

"There's a tea for Submissives?" Conrart asked after a second.

Yozak gapped at him for a moment utterly flabbergasted. "You didn't know there was a tea to help with the symptoms of your heat?"

Conrart shook his head and took a sip of his tea, Yozak cleared his throat he still had a few more questions that he should have asked, but he already knew the answer to most of them so he was not going to bother asking them. However there was one question that he absolutely had to ask. Technically he was supposed to ask it three different ways, but he didn't think there was any reason to attempt to ascertain whether or not Conrart was lying. Still, he felt awkward asking it.

"Conrart," he asked after taking a moment to figure out how to phrase his question. "Have you ever been raped?"

Conrart sputtered, and then proceeded to gape at him. "No!" he snapped, "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Thought as much," Yozak replied mildly.

To his amusement, Conrart simply finished off his tea and, for lack of a better term, coiled himself up against him. Yozak smiled and carefully disentangled himself from Conrart. The other man made a soft chirp of protest. Yozak smiled down at him and gently said, "I'm just going to get you some more tea, I'll be right back."

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Yozak gazed down at Conrart as the smaller man slept curled up on his side. Less than an hour had passed since Conrart had been given what was apparently his first cup of seasonal tea ever - a fact that alarmed Yozak to no end. At least now the smaller man was getting some much needed sleep and appeared contented if nothing else. He smiled to himself as Conrart shifted slightly attempting to burrow into his chest and Yozak wondered how he'd missed the fact that his best friend was in Heat, both now and back during the war.

When Olaf had gone into Heat every man in their platoon had been aware of it before the end of the day. That was hardly surprising, however, given the man's nature.

Dominant demons established a pecking order when in Rutt and Agidius had been the unchallenged 'alpha' male in their platoon when Olaf went into Heat. Yozak remembered that morning well, Olaf had simply walked up to Agidius and straddled his lap before announcing the fact that he was in Heat to the entire platoon. Before breakfast was even over Agidius had spilled his seed inside of the perfectly willing submissive, twice.

Every Rutting male – himself included – had taken him more than once by the time Conrart had put his foot down a few months later, after Agidius had tried to get Olaf to ride him while they mustered out. The man had been wholly incapable of being quiet, and as Conrart had put it: "Riding out with the men trying to see who could make the submissive scream the loudest" had been a bad idea. Conrart had mandated that Olaf was to have at least 4 hours of uninterrupted rest, and no one was allowed to "take him" while they were riding, on watch or anywhere near food, since Conrart was tired of "wondering what was in the oatmeal".

Much to Olaf's dismay Conrart had enforced that by moving the other man into the command tent. Which despite being meant to hold only Conrart and a small writing table that was used for maps and reports, had also housed Henry – the one medic in their platoon – Yozak and Lieutenant Brent. Conrart had used the table as firewood their first night out when they'd discovered how very short they were on tents and other supplies. Conrart had also gotten rid of anything nonessential so that they could cram five or six men into the tiny four man tents rather than have people sleeping outside. They'd only just had enough bedrolls for the men and everyone's bedding (Conrart's included) was more patching then fabric.

Agidius had been less than thrilled with Conrart's decision and had accused Conrart of not understanding the needs of his men because he hadn't come into season yet.

Yozak shook his head to clear his thoughts and glanced down at Conrart as the man … well …snuggled deeper into his chest. Abruptly he realized, Agidius had taken a step forward when he'd made that accusation, and then taken another step forward and growled "or have you gone into season and hidden it from us, after all one submissive isn't enough for the pleasure of the entire platoon?"

Ironically that was how Yozak himself had made the climb from about midrange on the dominance scale to the very top. He hadn't been interested in climbing the ladder of dominance at that age; he'd been too young and hadn't started his true seasons yet. As such while he'd been aggressive the driving need to mate hadn't been there and he'd seen no reason to further damage his hide. Oh he'd fought and wiped the floor with any Rutting male foolish enough to challenge him but he hadn't actually gone looking for a fight.

But something had snapped inside of him when he saw Agidius backing Conrart up against the tree he'd been standing in front of. He hadn't thought he'd simply let out a roar of rage and flung himself at the other man. They'd hit the floor a rolling, snarling, tangle of enraged muscle and testosterone. The perceived threat filling him with a blinding rage and something akin to hatred to the point that he was fairly certain he would have killed the other man if Conrart hadn't pulled him off.

He remembered snarling briefly at Conrart before something made him back down and give way to the pleading look in his best friend's eyes. However he had informed Agidius that he would kill him if he threatened their prince again.

He'd been shocked when only Conrart and Olaf had met his gaze and Olaf only briefly. Rutting males only made eye contact with their partners, or as a way to intimidate other less dominant demons.

Things had been awkward in their tent after that.

A fortnight later he'd woken up to the soft sound of Conrart waking from a nightmare; rolling over, he snagged the edge of his friend's bedroll and pulled him close wrapping the smaller boy in his arms. It was rare for Conrart to show weakness in front of their men, and Yozak had known he would never cry with the chance of them witnessing it. Conrart had rolled over and gazed up at him, whispering "I'm scared," before tucking himself against Yozak's chest and beginning to cry silently. Yozak had simply cradled Conrart closer and let him cry while he carded his hand soothingly through Conrart's short cropped hair, gently messaging the base of Conrart's skull before lowering his head and resting his nose in Conrart's hair. Conrart had been making soft mewing noises into his chest as the smaller boy fell asleep. The last thing Yozak had heard before drifting off to sleep – had been Olaf hissing.

Things had gotten extremely tense in their tent after that.

The next morning he'd suddenly lost all interest in Olaf. He then spent the better part of an hour fussing over the heap of rags that he'd made into a sort of … nest for him and Conrart to share – bodily removing Olaf from it at one point.

It had taken him a full fifteen minutes to convince Conrart to share his bed the way they had at home before the war; reminding his friend that he was no good to their platoon if he fell over from exhaustion. He'd also reminded Conrart that he was still growing and that the cold air was bad for his health, none of those arguments had been effective, and in the end he'd resorted to gently reminding Conrart that they would both perform better if they slept warm and that slim advantage could mean the difference between life and death for them both.

That had worked and Conrart had crawled willingly into the bed he had prepared for them. He'd cradled Conrart in his arms that night and every night after until the battle of Luttenburg had nearly killed them both.

Olaf had not been happy about it.

At the time he hadn't thought about the implications, he'd been ignoring a perfectly willing Submissive for more than two weeks, and had thrown him out of their tent on several occasions.

How had he not known Conrart was in Heat?

How had he not realized it when all of the signs pointed to it? Had he known on a subconscious level? Is that why he'd thrown Olaf out? Is that why he'd taken on Agidius when the man had threatened Conrart? Had he been protecting the best friend he already saw as his mate?

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Conrart moaned as he climbed slowly up out of the arms of sleep. It only took him a minute to realize he was literally wrapped in Yozak's arms. He blinked, the last thing he remembered was Yozak giving him some tea. He curled up on himself trying not to start shaking as the situation dragged up memories he would have happily forgotten.

"You drugged me." He said softly, trying desperately to avoid crying.

Yozak looked down at him, shock registering in his blue eyes and Conrart braced himself for the reaction he would have gotten had he ever been brave enough to call Gwilherm on his abuse. "No I didn't." Yozak replied his tone firm but gentle. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Why else would I have passed out? You gave me tea and I passed out," he couldn't help it, he began to cry. "Just like Gwilherm," he mumbled between sobs. "Drugged me and touched me; Oh Great One, not again!"

Yozak loosened his grip a bit, "Gwilherm Drugged You?" He growled menacingly.

Conrart squeaked and cowered away, terrified of what was to come, but Yozak made no move against him, in fact he purred softly calming him despite the rage he could feel rolling down their lifebond. "Y-Yes" he managed after a second.

"And he touched you when you were drugged?" Yozak enquired gently, despite his almost feral growling.

Conrart huddled in on himself not wanting to be touched, and not trusting that anyone would follow his wishes on the matter. Closing his eyes in a desperate and foolish bid to block the memories of that horrid experience, he nodded. To his shame – he realized he was starting to hyperventilate. Rather abruptly he realized Yozak was projecting calm at him, along with a feeling of love and compassion. "I will never drug you." He said gently but firmly. "I sure as hell will never molest you. Tell me if you want me to stop doing something and I will stop. I swear that on my mother's grave."

Conrart curled up against Yozak's chest, "why did I pass out then?" he asked softly.

Yozak carded a hand soothingly through his hair, "I swear all I gave you was medication to help with your Heat, you passed out because you've had no more than four hours of sleep in as many days and are still exhausted."

Conrart felt himself relax back into Yozak's embrace. "Sorry," he whispered into the other man's strong chest.

Yozak's only reply was to gently rub his back.

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Yozak gazed down at Conrart who was curled up in his arms; the man was awake and resting quietly. He was honestly a little alarmed by how quickly the fact that Conrart was a Submissive had altered things. He'd caught himself mentally referring to Conrart as "his little Submissive" a time or two. He wanted nothing more than to protect Conrart from every possible threat.

"Conrart?" he said gently after a few minutes of consideration, "Do you know what testing is?"

"Of course," Conrart replied softly into his chest. "Why do you ask?"

"Who taught you?" he enquired, "I'd like to make sure the same idiot who taught you about a Submissive being "made to be fucked" didn't teach you about the testing as well."

Conrart blinked, "Gwilherm taught me the former when he was still my guard, hahaue delegated the task of teaching me about sex, and well the birds and the bearbees to Uncle Stoffel, since chichiue should have been the one to do it and ossan delegated most of it to Gwilherm since the man was my Healer as well as my guard." Conrart replied softly.

Yozak couldn't help growling at Stoffel's stupidity, having Conrart's boyfriend – at the time – teaching him about sex was a decidedly stupid idea, and he refrained from snorting at Conrart's somewhat rude honorific for his uncle. Frankly Yozak thought Conrart was lucky Gwilherm hadn't decided to teach him through … hands on experience. Although if his drugging Conrart was any indication – the man had only been intending to wait long enough that Lady Cecilia would not have executed him if she'd found out. "Apparently Stoffel is even more of an idiot then I'd thought."

"Günter explained the tests to me though when he found out I didn't know much about them." Conrart told him softly.

Yozak leaned down and kissed the top of Conrart's head, "At least that's one thing I don't have to worry about."

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According to the translation found on Google:

Hahaue - an old Japanese word for mother

Chichiue_ - _an old Japanese word for father

Ossan – a rude way to say uncle

Ojisan- proper way to say uncle

A.N.

Sorry everyone for taking forever to update. We blame school as per usual. If anyone is still out there waiting for our update, hope you enjoyed the long chapter.


	48. Testing again?

Chapter 48: Testing...again?

Conrart stood at the front of the classroom. He had to admit it was odd, he'd never taught in this capacity before. Sure he'd taught the students weaponry and self-defense, just as he'd taught his recruits back in Shin Makoku, but this was new. This class was purely academic; sure he'd taught Yozak how to read and write, but that didn't count. In addition to that his status had changed. Here he was a respected Herald giving a class on his own culture and customs; not the despised and worthless half-breed son of the 26th Maou. He actually mattered here. His impure blood was meaningless in Valdemar he was just another Herald.

He didn't know if he would ever get used to the feeling of having value for more than just his military skill. It was true his mother, elder brother, Murata, Yuri and of course Yozak had always made him feel like he was worth something – but they were truly the only ones. Even his beloved little brother, Wolfram had treated him like he was filthy after becoming aware of his tainted blood. But things were different now no one treated him as if he was something they might scrape off of their boots. It was a great feeling, but there were times when he wondered how long it would last. Even now – over four years after Vanyel had first pranced merrily into his life and proceeded to turn it upside down – he was still expecting to wake up and find that it had all been a wonderful dream.

Vanyel's mental snort brought him out of his musing. _: I guess that's better than being a hallucination brought on by the goo that _healer_ made you drink.:_

_: I guess I'll just have to ask Gisela for more of that 'goo', if you don't mind. You are a hallucination I'd rather like to keep.: _he retorted mildly.

Conrart glanced over at Yozak who was happily lounging in one of the desks he'd pulled off to the side. _Why are you here exactly?_ He enquired with just a slight raise of his scarred right eyebrow.

The look Yozak gave him in return was mischievous. He cocked his head slightly revealing his bruised cheek to the as of yet empty classroom, and put his feet up on the desk assuming a casual and downright lazy air. Conrart snorted, reading the unspoken message quite clearly. Every line of Yozak's body from the way he tilted his chin to the soft set of his shoulders announced the fact that he was quite contentedly showing off their new found relationship, like an Earth woman showing off an engagement ring.

Conrart rolled his eyes at his friend's antics as the first of his students began trickling in. Prince Kris and his twin sister Lyra – who were two of seven students' in his class that were already in Whites - blinked at the sight of Yozak's bruised cheek. "Yozak, who slapped you?" Lyra demanded with a hint of mild indignation that anyone would dare to strike a Herald here, of all places.

"Oh, I'm sure he deserved it," Conrart replied off handedly, sharing a laden look with Yozak.

Yozak waggled his eyebrows in response. "I should think I do" he retorted, "I should hate to think you would slap just anyone, naishinnou*."

Conrart threw a piece of chalk at the other man, to the amusement of his students. "I am not a girl." He said in a playfully affronted tone of voice.

Yozak shot him a look that quite clearly said _could have fooled me._

Conrart rolled his eyes at his best friend and started his lesson on the courtship rituals and general rules of conduct for both the nobility and the everyday citizens, including things like expectations of chastity and who was expected to have a chaperone.

He'd expected the chapter – with its embarrassing topics of study and inevitable menagerie of humiliating questions, that in turn had complex and honestly somewhat confusing answers – to take the better part of two lessons to adequately accomplish, but to his amazement they still had 10 minutes left after the last questions had been answered.

"Since we have time left you might as well get started reading the next chapter." He flipped to the page in his own book, and blushed when he realized it was the chapter on marriage proposals and ceremonies. _: I'll know they're done when the giggling starts.: _he told Van bleakly.

At first the classroom was silent as the few Heralds and students in the uniforms of all the four collegia read through the chapter, than the first of the white clad student's (ironically Austin) glanced up at Yozak and raised an eyebrow. Soon after a low murmur broke out as the younger students finished reading.

"Um, Yozak?" Austin sounded uncomfortable. "I thought you implied that Conrart gave you that … hand shaped, bruise?"

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Yozak ran a hand through his hair, he was teaching his basic Mazoku language class but his mind was far away from his lessons. In fact it was currently dreaming up provocative images of his best friend, which was interesting because the last time his mind had been this full of images of Conrart in the nude, was before the war.

Truthfully Conrart's lesson had driven home the fact that Conrart was still a virgin. With his rank and the fact that he liked men – he could be nothing else. It was odd, he'd never had sex with a virgin before; he actually went out of his way not to. Honestly the very idea of being with a virgin had turned him away because of the inevitable emotional attachment and the fact that he didn't want to be responsible for their first impressions of the act.

The fact that Conrart was a virgin however … turned him on to no end.

True, Conrart wasn't entirely untouched but that didn't matter, the man had so little experience he might as well not have any. It meant that Conrart wouldn't have anything to compare it with. It also meant he was going to be teaching his love about sex.

He had to admit the idea gave him a bit of a power trip, though he had every intention of ensuring Conrart's needs and wants were seen to before his own.

A question he'd only half heard brought him out of his thoughts and he flushed when he asked his student to repeat it, silently reminding himself to keep his mind in the present.

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Conrart would have been lying if he said he wasn't afraid. He glanced at Yozak who was sitting beside him on the bed. He swallowed – he really did not want to be doing this. "You're only going to do the first Test right?" he enquired timidly.

Yozak leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. "I promise we are not going any further then the first stage of the Testing calls for. I'll find out about how far I can go before you lose control in Heat, and then we'll stop and you can have some tea." That said he gently lowered Conrart down onto his back.

Conrart swallowed his fears and gazed into his best friend's eyes – he trusted Yozak and always had, he saw no reason to be mistrustful now – but he was still scared.

Yozak sat on his knees and leaned over him, "tell me to stop until you can't anymore." He said and began to gently run his hands over Conrart's cloth covered chest.

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Yozak watched quietly as Conrart pulled on his boots, grabbed the mug of tea he'd made for him earlier and left his quarters in search of Vanyel. Yozak didn't blame the other man for seeking the safety and comfort of his Companion when he'd just deliberately pushed the smaller man rather firmly out of his comfort zone with an ancient but still very necessary mating ritual.

As far as the Testing went he was honestly a little alarmed, it hadn't taken much for Conrart to lose control. Conrart had been fine when he'd touched him gently through his clothing and when he'd gently slid his hands between the smaller man's shirt and tunic. His breathing had only hitched slightly when he'd slid his hands under Conrart's shirt and caressed his bare skin. However when he'd slid his hands into the other man's pants gently caressing him through his small clothes –

Conrart had lost it, bucking into his touch and moaning wantonly. He'd spent a full minute and a half after they'd ended the test softly whimpering at the loss of contact. Then he'd simply lain there panting, and Yozak could feel the fear rolling off of him in waves. Yozak had gently rubbed his back until Conrart had calmed and his breathing began to even out.

Yozak didn't say anything to his future husband and best friend before the man left the room, but he was deeply worried and beyond thankful that they were in Valdemar and not home in Shin Makoku. Conrart would have been in a lot of trouble if they'd been home. This was Conrart's first True Heat, and the symptoms of his heat would only get worse with each passing decade.

Under their law out right rape wasn't allowed, in season or not, but there was no law preventing a Dominant from using their season to convince a reluctant Submissive to have sex. Because of this sex between a Rutting Dominant and a Submissive in Heat was always considered to be consensual – unless there were witnesses.

Too many people still thought of Conrart as a half-breed who needed to be taught his place.

Too many of those would jump at the chance to teach him a lesson.

But then again this made absolutely no sense.

Conrart couldn't be this submissive during his very first True Season; if he truly was, then he wouldn't have been able to hide it these last few decades. Particularly not during the war when he'd been literally surrounded by Rutting males, several of whom were fairly Dominant. Fights had broken out over Olaf on several occasions. Yet not one of the men had ever made a move on their commanding officer.

Actually now that he thought about it there had been _one _fight over Conrart.

The fight that had won him the position of most dominant male in their platoon, a position he held for the remainder of the war. He'd thrown himself at Agidius to protect Conrart.

Did the rest of their platoon know?

Was he the only one who hadn't seen it?

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Conrart paced back and forth in the shady glen by a bend in the Terilee; Vanyel had shown it to him shortly after his choosing, after the stallion realized that the sound of freely running water helped him to calm down. The normally calm waters churned with his turbulent emotions and he fought to control both his Heraldic gifts and his elemental powers. He remembered how Wolfram had accidently set things alight when he got emotional, before he'd learned to fully control his elemental powers. Not that that had stopped things from being set alight but at least now it was all intentional. He was worried that in his terror he would accidently flood the field… again.

He flung himself down on the bank and curled up in a ball, sobbing brokenly at his own weakness. What must Yozak think of him after that? He rocked himself slowly back and forth, not sure if he should tell Yozak the truth. Yozak likely thought this was his first True Heat. It was a logical conclusion given his age, Mazoku tended to go into season for the first time between the age of 100 and 110; it was supposed to happen after the passing of a child's first century. Yozak for example had been 102 when he'd gone into Rutt for the first time.

Gwilherm's voice sneered _'only a _whore_ goes into Heat at 85' _into his mind and he shook his head. No he couldn't tell Yozak that this was actually his _sixth_ Heat. The other man was more than capable of doing the math and figuring out just how old he'd been when he'd gone into heat for the first time. He didn't want to explain to Yozak about how he'd "acted the part of a whore, and seduced Gwilherm and the rest of his guards", the very night he became legal.

He was shaking uncontrollably; he never wanted to feel that kind of pain again

Ever

He didn't know how Yozak would react.

He knew how a nobleman would react – he knew the hell his life would become if he allowed himself to become some noble lord-ling's wife, when his virginity wasn't intact… but he had no idea how it would affect his relationship with Yozak. Would Yozak hurt him like a noble would? He didn't think so… but he was terrified of the possibility. A noble man would use his lose nature to their advantage since his lack of virginity essentially stripped him of the right to tell his husband no. He didn't think Yozak would ever take the right that essentially let Yozak take him whenever, wherever, and however he fancied.

He'd never thought a member of his own guard would hurt him either.

He was filthy, he didn't deserve anything better - but still he honestly hoped that his relationship with Yozak bore more in common with his dreams and that one night by the lake years ago.

Why did things have to change between them?

He wanted to feel safe

In the past, he would currently be buried in the safety of his best friend's arms – but Yozak was no longer 'safe'. He couldn't be the safe haven Conrart needed.

How could he, when the one thing Conrart had ever been truly and irreparably terrified of dangled between the other man's legs and grew hard against his backside at night?

In some ways it was truly ridiculous, he was a man – and yet he was so completely terrified of the agony that one organ could cause … well he never even touched his own, unless it was to use the privy or see to hygiene. How could he be expected to touch Yozak's; to let Yozak touch him there? Or worse … to let Yozak put his p- … _that _inside of him?

The very idea terrified him to no end.

Yet he knew that Yozak had wanted to put _it _inside of him since the other man's first Rutt, but had never forced anything on him.

He whimpered as his traitorous mind called up images and the remembered agony of Gwilherm's thick fingers thrusting in and out of his body.

His stomach rolled, and he wretched but didn't vomit.

He wondered, would Yozak be gentle with him if he'd known he'd already lain with another?

He wanted to believe he would, but if there was one lesson Gwilherm and Stoffel had taken pains to drill into his head, it was what happened to nobles who comported themselves like common whores.

He couldn't risk Yozak knowing.

He recoiled almost violently when something soft touched his shoulder. To his great embarrassment he screamed in alarm and scrambled far enough away that his hands sank wrist deep into cold river water before he recognized Vanyel.

_: Easy Chosen,: _Vanyel said gently into his mind. _: You have nothing to fear from me.:_

Conrart rose to his feet and ran to his Companion, before burying his face in the stallion's silky mane. "I know that. I – I'm just -"

_: You're scared Chosen, I understand that. : _Vanyel's tone was oddly gentle, almost as if he thought Conrart might break.

Truthfully _he_ was afraid he might break, so he couldn't blame the Companion for thinking it too.

Vanyel nuzzled him gently and Conrart felt his knees buckling, the stallion went with him to the ground curling up around him like a mare with a foal as he cried himself senseless. Feeling safe for the first time since Yozak had begun that damned test.

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Yozak opened his eyes as Conrart slipped into bed with him. He smiled and wrapped his arms gently around his smaller friend. Conrart stiffened slightly, having obviously been under the impression that he'd been asleep. Truthfully he had been, but the familiar feeling of Conrart climbing into bed with him coupled with the other man's trepidation at the act had awoken him. He shifted and settled Conrart so that the smaller man's back rested against his chest.

"I swear to Shinou that you have nothing to fear from me." He said softly. "I will not take advantage of the fact that you are in Heat; when you are ready, not before."

Conrart relaxed slightly. "Yozak?" he replied softly. "Could you swear that on Jissa?"

Yozak blinked, honestly a little surprised by the request. "I swear on my Companion, I will not take advantage of you." He smiled when Conrart relaxed completely against his chest and he felt the last of his best friend's fear dissipate.

_: If he tried it, he'd answer to me.: _Jissa informed them both frankly.

_: The line starts after me.: _Yozak blinked at Vanyel's voice in his head. _: I'd kick him so hard, he'd witness his father's grandsir's birth.:_

Yozak chuckled, "and then Jissa would likely repute me." He told the smaller man in his arms with just a hint of humor. "So you see it's in my best interests to not do something stupid."

Conrart snuggled up against him, "Thank you." He whispered softly.

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Yozak shifted slightly as he watched Conrart sleep. There was a time not so long ago when his swearing on the name of their god would have startled Conrart; however it would have been all the reassurance he needed. The fact that the smaller man had asked him to swear on his Companion spoke volumes about how much their lives had changed.

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Yozak had never been so thankful to see the last of his Rutt; just two more days to go. Dealing with Conrart while he was Rutting was an enormous pain in the rump. It wasn't that Conrart was difficult – on the contrary he was meek as a milk maid, and all he really wanted was to cuddle. The problem was that he kept finding himself in compromising positions with the other man. He was fairly certain that they were not Conrart's fault either. It was odd a few weeks ago, before he'd found out Conrart was a Submissive he would have thought nothing of waking up with Conrart tucked underneath his body. The few times he'd done that before he'd just thought he'd rolled over onto Conrart in his sleep, and Conrart tended to sleep under a ton of blankets, so he'd always thought he liked the added weight. Now though, he honestly didn't know what he thought of it.

He pulled his mind off of Conrart and back to the class he was currently teaching. Hopefully his being out of season would help to calm the other man down. Conrart seemed to be having a hard time dealing with the actual drive to mate which came along with finally being truly in season. He found himself constantly pulling back desperately trying not to not to accidently take advantage of his friend, honestly if he didn't know better he'd say Conrart was pair-bound and trying to conceive. He was that needy, that clingy.

He snorted in mild amusement, given the fact that the how-tos of pair-bonding weren't given until a couple was ready to try for children, he'd be more inclined to believe that he and Conrart were already mates, then accidently pair-bound.

…And that was about as likely as a purple polka-dotted Companion.

Incidentally the term 'mates' was one of the terms in today's language lesson, and one his students wanted him to explain. He stood there for a moment trying to figure out how to explain a concept that he'd been aware of and understood for almost as long as he remembered. All Mazoku children over the age of five knew what Mating was – even if they didn't exactly understand it. Just like every human child knew what a marriage was. Human children played games that innocently mimicked adult life and roles, and so did Mazoku children – they played at being married or mated, and having a family.

He and Conrart had once rather innocently played at being mated, and expecting, Conrart's Lady Mother had found their game 'cute', but Stoffel had caught them at their game later that day and well… Stoffel always was an idiot. He'd taken a switch to them both and then dragged Conrart off for a bit of 'male bonding' as it had been Conrart's 81st birthday, he didn't know what Conrart's uncle had said – and Conrart hadn't told him, but the other boy had been greatly subdued for a few weeks afterward. Conrart's timid behavior had been directly responsible for the incident that had gotten Yozak sent away to military school.

It had been worth it to see Conrart's eyes light up with mischief, and to see the smile Conrart had already been learning to hide poking out from under his mask like expression. As was the fact that Stoffel's hair had been an interesting shade of bright blue for the next week – thanks to the mixture of a cheap blue dye, cheap raspberry whine, the crushed seeds of two pomegranates**, and the fine powder that came from grinding up a small piece of broken crockery.

They'd put the concoction (that had stained both of their hands) into a couple of old water-bladders, climbed a tree, and dropped them on top of the annoyingly pompous man.

He smirked at the memory and turned his attention back to his class. "Being mated is like being Lifebond, and love-matched. Within our culture a couple that is Mated is given the same status as a married couple – even if vows have not been spoken. Although, unlike a lifebond it is not something that has to be realized, a Mate-bond forms through mutual work over the course of several decades."

One of his students asked him another question, but he wasn't listening – something was wrong.

Adrenalin surged through his body preparing him for a fight. He fought to stay coherent as his vision filmed over in red. It took him a moment to realize that the deep, dangerous rumbling growl was coming from his own throat.

_:Chosen,: _Jissa's voice in his mind was sharp and thickly laced with worry.

He hardly heard her, or the alarmed voices of his class of mixed gray, white and two scarlet clad students as he bolted from the room, and down the hall so fast he skidded, and pushed off the wall with both hands to keep himself upright.

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A.N. Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnn. R&R please.

*Naishinnou – imperial or royal princess

**We are assuming both raspberries and pomegranates are shades of blue in Shin Makoku seeing as both apples and carrots are purple.


	49. You bit me!

Chapter 49: You bit me!

Conrart squirmed trying to dislodge Daniel's wandering hands and wondered exactly how he'd gotten into this mess. A good deal, if not all of it was his damned fault and he wondered what the hell had possessed him. He was not even remotely interested in Daniel, and yet when the man had started flirting with him earlier – as was becoming habitual – he'd reacted oddly. He'd behaved rather ridiculously and he honestly couldn't help wondering exactly when he'd turned into a teenager. He knew better then to flirt with a man he wasn't interested in. He certainly knew better then to all but egg the other man on until he was literally in a dangerous situation.

Yet he couldn't seem to help himself.

He really should have known better, Daniel wasn't someone he regularly associated with, although the man had had training sessions with Kero after his own and had routinely put in his two coppers on Conrart's ability with a knife. He had a temper that was downright explosive. "Looks like someone's enjoying himself." Daniel cooed as he cupped Conrart somewhere his touch was extremely unwelcome.

"Stop," Conrart whimpered as the act reminded him distinctly of Gwilherm "_Please."_

Daniel laughed, his hand rubbing rough little circles on the inside of Conrart's thighs; before sliding his hand back up to his groin in a tantalizing caress. "Oh but you're so responsive," the man replied seductively. "You obviously want it."

"Please," Conrart whimpered though he honestly couldn't say if he was begging for the touching to stop or continue.

"Let's go back to my rooms," Daniel said in a seductive voice although there was something in his tone that suggested it was a command and not a suggestion. "I'll bend you over the couch and ride you nice and hard. You'd like that wouldn't you."

Conrart squirmed and tried to force himself to say no but the combination of his Heat and the command in Daniel's tone made it difficult. He whimpered as he felt his throat begin to move on its own, and then Van was there.

_: Say NO chosen,: _Vanyel's voice in his head was ten times more commanding then Daniel's.

"No, let go." He said with a firmness lent to him by Vanyel. Despite the strength he was drawing from his Companion, his voice still shook.

Daniel shifted Conrart slightly, glaring at him. "Is that anyway to talk to a captain of the palace guard, maybe you need to be punished?"

Conrart shuddered as he heard Gwilherm's voice asking a nearly identical question, any residual arousal from the man's touch and his Heat fled his body as he whimpered in fear. Abruptly Yozak's hand clamped down on his arm in a vice-like grip. Conrart couldn't help the pathetically remorseful little chirp that escaped his throat at the sound of Yozak's deep threatening growl. The other man glanced at him as he was rather forcibly extracted from Daniel's grasp. Yozak offered him a soft reassuring purr as he placed himself firmly between them.

"Go back to my quarters," Yozak said firmly giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the door before turning his attention back to Daniel with a menacing snarl. Any thoughts he'd had of defying that order vanished at the sound of that snarl, Yozak was likely about to go into pre-Rutt.

Thankfully he should be out of Heat by the time Yozak went into Rutt fully, still his life was about to become hell. He lowered his gaze in a tangible show of submission. "Yozak," he whispered softly. "Don't kill him."

Yozak's only response was to give him another gentle shove in the direction of the door. With a soft sigh he went. He was glad Yozak had rescued him from Daniel. Having the other man behave in such a manner only confirmed everything Gwilherm had ever told him. Still he didn't want Yozak to get into trouble protecting him. He didn't know how the crown would react to a Mazoku who was protecting his submissive mate.

People had died in such fights before.

He wanted …no needed Yozak's attention. It was imperative that he redirect Yozak's attention from Daniel to him. He didn't know why.

"Yozak," he whispered in a very small voice. "Take me home… _please." _He made a soft noise before cocking his head to the side and adding in an extremely small voice; "take me."

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Yozak froze in shock at the sound of Conrart's plea to be taken home. He'd never heard Conrart make that noise before. Abruptly he realized just what was going on. He turned his head and met Daniel's eyes. "Stay the hell away from Conrart." He snarled menacingly. That said he turned and walked across the room to Conrart's side. For a moment he simply stood there taking in the sight of Conrart. The other man was flushed and still making an incredibly soft mewling noise in the back of his throat. That little noise was in and of itself beyond arousing. Conrart's lips were ever so slightly parted as the man breathed in almost fevered little gasps.

Yozak shifted his position slightly, backing up so that the stood just behind and to Conrart's left, noting the fact that Conrart tracked him with his eyes as he went, the soft mewling getting progressively more plaintive. He stood there quietly examining his mate before responding with the soft not quite purring noise he made only for Conrart. The result was instantaneous; Conrart stopped looking like a kicked puppy, moving so that his back was pressed into Yozak's chest as his mewling took on an almost expectant tone.

The implications of Conrart's behavior hit him like a ton of bricks and he swallowed his own nervousness. "Come on," he said gently as he scooped the smaller man up into his arms "let's get you home and into bed."

"Bed?" Conrart enquired softly.

"Bed," Yozak confirmed easily, noting the fact that the way Conrart had shifted made him look downright enticing – like his body had been laid out for Yozak to plunder. He stepped firmly on that thought almost as soon as he had it.

Conrart mewed at him again, whispering "Please I need you," in their native tongue.

"You encouraged him didn't you?" he asked gently as they made their way back to his rooms.

Conrart stiffened his languor vanishing in a heartbeat as he admitted to the accusation in a small shamed tone of voice. Yozak nodded calmly, in some ways he'd expected that. He had a sneaking suspicion as to exactly what was wrong with Conrart, but he needed to ask his fiancé a few more questions before he could be sure. "Why did you?"

"I- I don't know." Conrart replied hesitantly. "I j-just had to."

Yozak sighed as he made his way into the Herald's wing of the palace and down the hall towards his own quarters. "Why?" he asked gently.

Conrart shrugged in his arms, "I- I just needed to know." He responded softly.

Yozak closed his eyes briefly before opening the door to his quarters. This already sounded like what he feared; if it was, Conrart had a very good reason for what he'd done -even if the man could not put it into words. Conrart would have been attempting to manipulate a certain result out of him with that stunt. If Conrart had instinctively been trying to manipulate him – then he could only hope the man had liked what he'd seen.

"Were you trying to make me jealous?" he enquired kicking his door shut behind him.

Conrart nodded as he sat him down on top of the bed.

Yozak rubbed his temples and sat down beside his fiancé. "To what end?" he asked gently. "Do you have any idea why you did what you did?"

Again Conrart shook his head.

"Did you want me to stop you?" Yozak enquired.

"Yes." Conrart whimpered softly.

Yozak inclined his head. "Did you like it when Daniel was touching you?" he asked carefully after a moment's consideration.

"No!"

Yozak blinked startled by how forcefully Conrart had responded to his question – despite the petulance in Conrart's tone. It was odd when most submissives pulled this stunt it was with another dominant who they were at least mildly interested in.

"Did you want me to stop him from touching you?"

"Yes," Conrart replied just as quickly and forcibly as before.

Yozak shifted, grabbing Conrart by the shoulders and pulled the other man down to the bed tucking him against his chest. "You redirected my attention back to you when I went to protect you?" he asked firmly. "Why?"

Conrart was quiet for a moment as he nuzzled into Yozak's chest, emitting a combination of soft chirps of distress and equally soft needy mews. "I just _needed _your attention." Conrart replied softly. "I needed you to leave Daniel and pay attention to me. I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please don't leave me. I'm sorry; let me make it up to you."

Yozak lay still as Conrart's hands slid sensually down his chest to his belt. He swallowed and let Conrart go for the ties holding his pants closed before reaching down and gently securing Conrart's hands, marveling at the fact that both of Conrart's dainty wrists fit in one of his hands. Carefully he pulled Conrart's hands up tucking them between their chests. He leaned in, gently kissing the top of Conrart's head. "We need to talk," he said softly.

Conrart struggled against him briefly tears welling up in his eyes "please," he whimpered chirping desperately at him.

Yozak closed his eyes. This was exactly what he'd feared. When two Dominant demons decided to commit to a long term relationship it was just that a decision made by the two. Between a Dominant and a Submissive however the procedure was a bit different. Firstly it was _not _a casual decision, it required at least three seasons together. The final decision was also made not by the Dominant as many people would expect but by the Submissive. A Dominant could plan to keep a Submissive all they liked but if that Submissive did not instinctively initiate the first stages of the Second Test on their own then there relationship was going nowhere. If the Dominant partner failed that crucial test – the Submissive in question would _never _allow themselves to be taken by that Dominant again.

They would simply leave.

He'd apparently passed, since Conrart was attempting to get into his pants. While that though made him very happy it also filled him with dread. Conrart still was not ready for sex, and the second test that he had to perform within the next 12 hours or sever the bond forming between them would sexualize Conrart in the extreme and was in fact meant to end with his seed in Conrart's womb*. In addition to that they'd only been a couple for two weeks which was nowhere near the three decades required. Had they still been in Shin Makoku Conrart would be going to see a healer before he even considered the Testing. Here however he doubted the healers would be able to do more than scratch their heads and possibly ask to 'keep him for observation.'

"That's enough," he said firmly as Conrart struggled to get his hands back down to Yozak's pants. "Conrart you know about the Second Test and when and why it's preformed right?" he asked gently.

Conrart froze. "Of course" he replied after a moment's silence. "Why?"

"Can you tell me how it starts, and why?" Yozak asked firmly.

Conrart shifted against him, his hands clenching in the fabric of Yozak's tunic. "Günter told me that the Submissive partner instinctively instigates it after three to five decades with a particular Dominant have passed, and only when the Submissive feels safe with that Dominant, and it's done so that the Dominant can prove himself to the Submissive since being in Heat makes them an easy target."

"How do they instigate the test?" Yozak enquired, gently stroking Conrart's hair as the smaller man began to settle.

"They provoke the dominant – according to Günter – starting initially by inviting the Dominant to m-mate and then deigning them. After that they – apparently invite another Dominant who's about as dominant if not a little bit more dominant then theirs to mate and then change their mind. Deliberately putting them into a situation their Dominant would have to rescue them from. Then they apparently try to turn their Dominant away from a fight- oh – oh no!"Conrart looked up at him brown eyes wide, "Please don't hurt me."

Yozak gently stroked Conrart's hair. "I won't hurt you," he promised gently. "I never could, but I do have to Test you."

Conrart nodded slowly, "D-do what you have to."

Yozak took a deep breath this test was designed to determine how much control he had over his lover, he needed to determine how easily Conrart's actions could be swayed while they were both in season so that he could set boundaries for himself that he could not cross when Conrart was in heat. He was lucky, he could monitor Conrart with his empathy, and mindspeech, and not just his eyes. "Could you take off your tunic?" he asked gently, reached out to his love with his gifts, linking their minds.

Conrart gave him a startled look but did not comply – thank the Great One.

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Yozak held Conrart gently in his arms as the other man cried, carefully wrapping a blanket around his hips to give him some measure of privacy. It took the better part of a candle mark for Conrart to calm and his breathing to ease.

"Yozak," he said softly once he'd caught his breath. "If you ever do that to me again, I'm going to kill you."

Yozak chuckled softly, "you have my permission to do so if I ever do that again." Conrart shifted slightly the action exposing the junction of his neck and right shoulder. Yozak leaned in and began to gently nuzzle and lick the exposed skin, purring softly. He lost himself completely as he did so only returning to himself briefly when Conrart cried out in pain as he bit down on the tender flesh. He wrapped his arms around Conrart's chest keeping him still until he went limp in his arms. Only then did he pull away. Conrart lay unconscious beside him as he began to lap gently at the blood on his lover's skin; he continued gently tending to the wound until unconsciousness claimed him as well about a minute later.

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Yozak yawned as he rejoined the land of the of the living, Conrart shifted closer to his chest jarring him back to wakefulness as the memories of what he'd just done came rushing back to him. He'd bitten Conrart! Bracing himself for what he was about to see he gently shifted Conrart to expose the smaller man's neck. When Mazoku Mated the dominant partner marked the less dominant partner, but the bond that formed between the two took decades to form. By biting Conrart he'd been essentially asking Conrart to be his Mate. If Conrart accepted his offer on a purely instinctive level (which required his total trust) then the bite mark would heal over in less than an hour forming a thin silver scar. If Conrart didn't accept then the bite would simply scab over and heal naturally without marring the skin.

Still at this point in their relationship he had no business biting Conrart like that. He took a deep breath, examined the damage he'd done to his best friend's neck, and froze in shock at the sight of the thin silver oval that graced Conrart's creamy skin.

His mark, Conrart bore his mark

That shouldn't be possible.

But the proof of the fact that Conrart was his had been permanently etched into Conrart's skin. He leaned in and instinctively began to nuzzle the spot where his mark lay. Conrart moaned and cuddled closer to Yozak's chest, looking completely relaxed for the first time since he'd come home from circuit. It made sense; instinctively Conrart didn't have anything to worry about any more while he was in season. Yozak smiled to himself as he gazed down at the smaller man marveling briefly at how dainty he was. In some ways it was odd, he'd loved and lusted after the man in his arms for almost as long as he could remember, but Conrart was not really his type. While it was true he had a thing for brunets – he liked his women dainty and effeminate and his men …well he enjoyed the tussle that inevitably came with bedding another dominant male. Yet it was dainty and eloquently fine boned Conrart who'd had his heart for decades and now bore his mark as a sign of the mate bond that now permanently tied them together.

Though he didn't know how it had happened he was glad it had – maybe it had to do with their lifebond. He shifted Conrart closer, all but wrapping himself around his Mate and he nuzzled and lapped at the mark that had formed on the other man's shoulder. The action was instinctive – that particular spot had now become rather important. His touch there would arouse or calm Conrart depending on the situation. In addition to doing something else that he doubted they would ever need, seeing how timid Conrart was about sexual situations and knowing the strict moral code that governed the man's actions, he couldn't imagine him ever straying. If he started to however it would become irritated.

Conrart uttered a small moan as he began to wake; abruptly he stiffened and forcibly knocked Yozak off of him with a rather painful blow of his elbow; before he scrambling away.

Yozak growled in annoyance moving closer to Conrart intent on pulling the smaller man back into his arms. He froze in shock when Conrart backed up hissing at him, brown eyes a blaze with anger and confusion. "Conrart?" he asked gently.

"You bit me!"

Yozak rubbed the back of his neck. "Yah I did." he replied watching in mild amusement as Conrart clamped a hand to his neck as if to stanch the flow of blood. He pulled his hand away from his neck and inspected the wetness on his hand, a look of mild distaste flashing across his face. He moved to the mirror and investigated the lack of blood with a curious expression. Yozak smiled and moved slowly up behind him. Gently he took Conrart into his arms and lightly mouthed the mark on his neck marveling at how quickly Conrart calmed. "You're mine." he said firmly. Yozak slid one hand gently down Conrart's shoulder, took his hand and led him back to bed.

The smaller man went willingly, with only the smallest amount of resistance when he actually laid him back down. Yozak purred quietly at the smaller man marveling at how well Conrart fit into his arms. Not that he hadn't cradled Conrart in his arms a million times over- still this was the first time he'd held his _Mate_ to his chest.

Conrart moaned and mewed writhing beneath him in time with his gentle licks to the mate mark. Like so many of their rituals regarding mating this one was also supposed to end in sex and frankly his control was wearing rather thin after the last two weeks. He'd have to be careful not to take things too far.

"Tell me when you want to stop." Yozak said firmly as he continued his gentle stimulation, sliding a hand down Conrart's side to his hip and forward to gently but firmly caress the erogenous zone that existed between the navel and groin timing his caresses so that they matched his gentle stimulation of Conrart's mate mark. Conrart squirmed as he found the spot he was looking for. He applied a gentle pressure nuzzling and licking the mark until Conrart squirmed, moaning and mewling while he writhed against his chest calling in abandon.

After a few minutes, Conrart shifted against him. "Yozak?" he whispered. "Can we stop?"

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Conrart stood quietly in Vanyel's stall carefully brushing out the stallion's coat. He'd thrown on his clothing after Yozak had stopped nuzzling his neck and fled alarmed by the reactions of his own body. He'd been in such a hurry to clear his head that he'd completely forgotten to grab his cloak or put on his shoes.

The end result was that he was standing in the deep straw of Van's stall attempting to brush the stallion to within an inch of his life.

He was currently very confused.

Things were standing at attention – things that always seemed to stiffen when Yozak touched him but now… now it was just painful.

Vanyel sighed. _: You need to talk to your lifebonded about that Chosen, also you might not want to run away next time. And Chosen, you might want to ask Yozak about the birds and the bees.:_

Conrart froze in shock. "I do not need the talk!" he yelped as soon as he was able to, blushing hotly when the sound of several Companions whickering in amusement met his ears. "Hearing it once from Gwilherm was enough thank you." He hissed.

Vanyel laid his ears back. _: Chosen, after everything that man did, can you honestly say you trust him to teach you about the things people do to each other in bed?:_

_: I – I don't… honestly I don't know Van. He was supposed to teach me – why would he alter what he was supposed to teach me?:_

Vanyel stomped one silver hoof. _: I don't think he taught you the truth Chosen, I can teach you if you would prefer but you should talk to Yozak.:_

_:it was embarrassing and painful enough having a healer teach me about sex, I'd rather not have similar lessons taught to me by a Horse – even if he is a Companion - or by Yozak.: _Conrart replied with an almost violent shudder and some of what and how he was taught bled through his shields to Vanyel before he regained control.

Van pinned his ears back in alarm before turning his head and nuzzling Conrart as the young man leaned into his shoulder _:Gwilherm is sick Chosen, You did nothing wrong and as for his lessons, he should never have taught you that way.: _the stallion's mindvoice was tinted an almost puce color and vibrated with barely suppressed rage.

Conrart pressed his cheek into Vanyel's soft fur, drawing comfort from the stallion's presence. "Why did he bite me?" he asked softly.

Vanyel didn't answer right away but when he did his mindvoice was soft and gentle with concern. _:According to Jissa, it's nothing bad. In fact it's something you had to agree to, apparently the mark wouldn't be silver if you didn't agree – so you must have agreed if only on a subconscious level. Jissa says it's a natural part of your life cycle and it seems depicts a rather permanent change in the status of your relationship. You need to speak with him Chosen, he needs to know you don't understand.:_

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A.N. for those of you who are alarmed at this point don't be, these tests are designed so that Yozak learns the boundaries and doesn't cross them. Also things wouldn't normally be this bad but there are outside circumstances that I will not reveal until later in the fic.


	50. The Birds and the Bearbees

Chapter 50: The Birds and the Bearbees

Yozak looked up from the book he was reading when Conrart timidly entered the room. His mate had his arms wrapped loosely across his chest in a gesture of disquiet. The smaller man wasn't looking at him and seemed distinctly uncomfortable.

"What is it?" he asked at the same time as Conrart uttered the most terrifying four words ever in a relationship "We need to talk."

Conrart shifted from foot to foot, an old nervous habit that Yozak hadn't seen in a little more than a century. "Can we maybe go to the living room?"

Yozak set his book aside and rose to his feet. "Of course," he replied gently. He paused briefly wondering if he should lead Conrart out into their living room or not. In the end he settled for gently squeezing the other man's shoulder before heading into the other room with Conrart at his heel. Settling down on the sofa he waited for Conrart to take a seat and was mildly alarmed when Conrart took a position standing in front of the fire his hip cocked forward slightly, his right hand resting just above his left hip where the hilt of his sword would have resided had he still been wearing it. To anyone else the pose looked casual, but to Yozak who knew Conrart better than anyone save maybe Vanyel, the pose was militant.

"Are swords required for this conversation?" He enquired flippantly, patting the sofa beside his leg.

Conrart snorted softly, the tension draining out of his stance. "No." he replied meekly, but didn't move from his spot by the fire.

Yozak sighed, it was obvious Conrart was not comfortable but he honestly didn't know how to fix that at the moment. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked gently.

"Why'd you do it?" Came the timid response.

Yozak blinked, he didn't think he'd ever seen the other man behaving so timidly. "Do what?" he enquired.

"Bite me?"

Yozak sighed, honestly he didn't know what had possessed him to try and mark Conrart as his mate without having ever taken the smaller man. His eyes traveled to the cloth covered mate-mark on Conrart's shoulder. By some miracle the mark had taken, but he could have seriously injured Conrart if it hadn't. He loved Conrart and wanted him, but that didn't excuse what he had done. "I don't know." He replied softly.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Conrart demanded sharply. "You can't just bite someone without knowing why. Damn it Yozak! What the hell?"

"I don't know why I did it," Yozak replied softly. "But that doesn't mean I regret it. Maybe it had to do with my Rutt, I don't know but it did happen and now you're mine. That is all that matters."

"_Rutt__**," **_Conrart squeaked his voice high pitched and piercingly shrill._** "**__You're in Rutt?_ Oh no, no please no."

Yozak suppressed a moan as Conrart's terror came rushing at him full force. He felt like a leaf in a gale. "Conrart." He said firmly in a futile attempt to get his smaller mate's attention. He rose slowly to his feet and advanced on the smaller man who shrank away from him in fear.

"_No," _Conrart whimpered,_ "Please no. I'm not ready. I can't. It's going to hurt. No please no."_

Yozak carefully pulled the smaller man into his arms. Conrart struggled against his grasp and Yozak loosened his hold so that while he held Conrart securely he wasn't restraining him. "Calm down," he whispered. "Trust me, calm down, that's it calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. Easy, easy, it's okay."

He lowered his shields slightly intending to use his empathic gift to sooth the edge off of his mate's terror. He was horrified to hear a detached almost clinical voice sounding through Conrart's memories. '_Remember, if a rutting male ever finds out you're in heat they'll use you like a whore. They'll ride you long and hard – whether you like it or not'. _Gwilherm's voice rang in his mental ears, echoing down his link to Conrart.

He reached out with his mind, putting the full weight of his empathic gift behind it. _: He lied!: _he said as firmly as he could while still keeping his tone gentle. _: Conrart he lied. I've been in Rutt since before you got home and I've known you were in Heat for weeks. Have I forced you? He lied, you are safe. I will _never _force myself on you; you have nothing to fear from me. He lied!:_

Conrart was shaking in his arms but slowly he began to calm, after a moment the smaller man buried his face into his shoulder and started to sob. Yozak gently stroked Conrad's hair, doing his best to comfort the man, before scooping him up into his arms and carrying him to the couch. He settled them both down so that Conrart was cradled in his arms, his face still hidden in his shirt as he sobbed. He let the smaller man cry himself out, gently rocking him back and forth like a small child, and rubbing his back in a calming manor.

Abruptly the door opened to admit a slightly out of breath Talia. "Is everything alright in here?" she enquired. Under the circumstances he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed at the intrusion on his private quarters. Actually now that he thought about it, it made sense. Conrart had been in a blind terror until just a short time ago. Obviously that had called Talia. He was fairly certain anyone with the barest touch of empathy had felt the man's terror.

He looked up at her, still stroking Conrart's hair, and nodded. "Conrart just had a slight panic attack. He'll be fine soon." He replied softly, thankful that Conrart was now radiating as much embarrassment as fear, and the fear was ebbing.

"Conrart?" she asked gently.

Conrart looked up at her his cheeks beet red with humiliation, "I – I'm okay, sorry I didn't mean to bother you. I'll be fine now."

Talia nodded, "alright but if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She replied gently before taking her leave, clearly relieved that her presence wasn't needed.

Yozak sighed, and continued to comfort a now utterly humiliated Conrart, as his thoughts strayed to Gwilherm's cruel words and he wondered: just how many facts of life had the man outright lied about? How many horrible lies did Conrart think were fact? How much of what Conrart knew of the birds and the bearbees were vicious lies told to him by his malicious ex-boyfriend?

Awkward as it was going to be – it looked like he was going to have to give his mate 'the talk'. At this point it was the only way he could be sure that Conrart wasn't completely crippled by lies.

At least he was only going to have to tell Conrart about Season, and possibly what that mark on his neck meant. It was pretty hard to fuck up the basics after all.

"Hey," he said softly as to not startle the other man. "Do you know what this is?" he inquired, outlining the mate mark on Conrart's shoulder with a gentle finger. It was probably the stupidest question he'd ever asked – but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Conrart shrugged, "You bit me." He said softly. "I asked Van – but he told me to talk to you."

Yozak gapped at his friend, he honestly had not expected that. "This," he said gently caressing the spot with his fingers causing the other man to shudder, "is a Mate-Mark." He would have said more but Conrart interrupted.

"Mate …mark?" he asked in an utterly bewildered tone of voice.

Yozak suppressed the need to slap his forehead with his palm. _How could Conrart not know what a Mate-Mark was? It was like a human child and a wedding ring – everyone knew what one was even if they had never seen one._

"This can't be a Mate-Mark," Conrart whispered. "You only bit me once."

Yozak blinked, "How many times do you think I'm supposed to bite you?" he asked a little more sharply than he'd intended.

"G-Gwilherm said five." Conrart replied timidly.

Yozak swore sharply. _Five times, when once was enough to do damage if the bond wasn't accepted? How could you even fit that many bite marks on one shoulder? Unless – _"Conrart," he asked after a moment's silence, "where _exactly _did Gwilherm say these bites were supposed to be?"

Conrart shivered, and his dismay at the conversation was clear when he answered, "You bite what you claim the use of," he answered in a ridiculously small voice.

He so did not like the sound of that –

"What do you mean?" he asked in a voice that was deadly calm.

Conrart squeaked, but didn't reply.

"Conrart," he said firmly.

The smaller man swallowed, and sent him a mental image of exactly where that bastard had informed him he could expect to be bitten by anyone who wanted to claim him as a mate.

Yozak couldn't suppress a growl, Conrart was trembling almost violently. "Please tell me you're joking." He said after taking a moment to control himself.

The look Conrart gave him plainly said he was not.

"Conrart," he said softly. "_This_ is a Mate-Mark, the others – well I do not like the idea of how badly I would hurt you if I were to bite you with enough force to scar in such intimate places. The only reason this healed as quickly as it did is because you accepted my claim to you. Though to be honest I still don't understand _how_ that happened."

Yozak shifted the smaller man carefully and gently stroked the other man's side.

Conrart looked up at him. "But, Gwilherm-"

"He lied." Yozak replied firmly not allowing Conrart to finish. He sighed adding, "have I ever lied to you?" when Conrart opened his mouth a slightly mutinous expression on his face.

Conrart looked at him for a moment, plainly uncertain. "No," he replied softly. "But-"

"But what?" Yozak asked gently in reply.

"Why would Gwilherm lie about something as important as that?"

Yozak sighed, "I don't know," he replied calmly.

Conrart looked down and Yozak noticed that while he wasn't making eye contact with him, he was very lightly caressing the mate-mark on his shoulder. "So we are Mates?" he asked softly after a moment raising his head to meet Yozak's eyes.

"Yes," Yozak replied firmly.

Conrart inclined his head, "what happens now?" he asked softly.

Yozak leaned in and gently kissed his mate, "Now," he said firmly. "I'm going to find out how much of what you know of Heat and Rutt is a lie … even if we are both utterly humiliated by the time we're done."

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Conrart shifted uncomfortably as Yozak gazed at him, his face contorted with what looked like an odd mix of barely controlled rage, alarm and disgust. The other man was currently a highly unflattering shade of puce. He'd just spent the last half hour explaining everything he'd been told of Heats and Rutts to his mate. When he'd finished Yozak had simply sat there in silence for fifteen minutes running the gambit of shades from green to puce and chartreuse.

Yozak took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Okay," he said firmly. "Clearly I'm going to have to fix this. Firstly I don't ever want to hear you refer to yourself like _that _again. You are not now nor have you ever been 'merely a vessel for someone else's enjoyment'. As to not having a choice in weather you lay with another man or a woman – that is the biggest load of shit I have ever heard and _that bastard _should be ashamed of himself for teaching an impressionable child in his care _that." _He sighed, "I'm glad you figured out that was a lie on your own, however I am … alarmed by your belief that you would have nothing to offer a woman. Dominant or Submissive, male or female, it doesn't matter, you would be valued for who you are. A Dominant male or female would love and value you. Because you are something that is theirs to protect, as well as 'for the pleasure they could take from your body'. I love you for more than that. You are my best friend, my mate and I would never see you harmed. I would have killed in your defense long before you became my mate, now – well I'd actually be justified in doing so." He paused and squeezed the smaller man's shoulder before running his fingers down Conrart's spine in a gentle caress. "Not that your rank didn't justify it before."

Conrart couldn't help the disbelief and relief he felt at what his friend was telling him. He'd always hated the very idea of what being a Submissive meant. _Had Gwilherm really lied to him that maliciously? And if he'd lied about that … what else had the man lied about? Had the man lied about – _

_No it didn't bare thinking about._

_Even Gwilherm wouldn't lie about that!_

_Would he?_

"As to you having no choice in what role you play, that is not true either." Yozak said firmly, and then added. "Okay, not entirely. It is true that since I'm more dominant then you, you will give yourself to me when we are in season. But that is it! Outside of season if you want to top, you are certainly allowed to do so. If you want to bottom, then that's fine too. The only time you have a set role is when we are both in season. If you go into Heat before I go into Rutt and want to top, go ahead. Granted in pre-Rutt I may not be willing to submit to you but that is entirely beside the point. You were not 'born to the role of a submissive' and frankly, I am appalled that Gwilherm ever told you your entire life and role in it was dictated by a basic bodily function. That's like saying Anissina should give up her woman's rights movement and labs for a home and children simply because she goes through Heat."

"She'd kill anyone who would even think to suggest it," Conrart interjected softly.

Yozak laughed, "Exactly." The other man stroked his hip delicately, "And Conrart," he added in a very serious tone of voice. "Even when I'm in Rutt and you're in Heat – I'll never force myself on you."

Conrart shifted closer allowing Yozak's gentle touch on his back and hip to sooth him.

"It's just a part of who we are," Yozak continued gently but firmly, "like human women have Moondays. Do you understand?"

Conrart considered everything his friend had just told him and weighed it against everything he'd originally been taught, and then thought of his Lady mother and Lady Anissina who he knew where both submissives and considered the fact that neither woman seemed to dread the onset of their Heat. Actually the only woman he knew who hated going into season was Gisela … and she wasn't a Submissive.

He swallowed, "I – I understand, but I don't know if I believe you." He admitted quietly.

Yozak sighed, "Give it some time." He said gently. "Give it time and I'll show you that everything I've told you is the truth. I love you, I won't hurt you."

Conrart looked down at his lap. "I want to believe you." He confessed softly, "but I – I just can't. I can't forget what th – he… what he taught me overnight."

Yozak raised an eyebrow and pulled him closer to his chest. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked softly.

Conrart flushed, "Yozak he's the one who taught me … everything. I can't just forget it."

Yozak sighed and rubbed his back, "give it time." He whispered "give it time and I promise you will believe me."

Conrart suppressed the urge to give the other man a skeptical look. He wanted to believe Yozak he really did – but Gwilherm had once promised him he'd enjoy sex. He hadn't. But this was Yozak, and Yozak kept his promises.

He was so confused.

"Yozak?" he asked softly, "when do you go out of Rutt?"

"Tomorrow or the day after."

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Jed took a deep breath as he and the six other men who had been chosen as possible candidates to play the part of 'Heralds' for this mission, were led into the large covered arena. The three who didn't get a horse would be going into Valdemar and the surrounding countries to gather information for the empire.

The orders of those chosen were simple: discredit the Heralds, and avoid extended contact with them, while working their way slowly inward tightening the noose around Valdemar and Haven until they could pass as Heralds not only among the commoners but among the Heralds themselves.

Once that happened they were to infiltrate their order and take down the nation from within.

As ordered he arranged himself along the fence a good distance away from the other candidates. Their esteemed Emperor had decided that 'in the interest of simulating the strange and perverse bond these Heralds have with their mounts' he was going to allow the horses to choose their riders. They'd spent the last month getting to know the horses, while the horses themselves went through extensive training. They'd all been taught the subtle signals the horses had been trained to respond to.

He fidgeted as the Hostler left the arena to go and collect the first of the four mares. He took a deep breath and focused on his breathing – reminding himself to leave his feelings behind for this – if the mares sensed his ill ease they wouldn't come to him and he'd be left out of the fun. Sure spying was interesting but it was nothing compared to being in the thick of things.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, this wasn't his favorite duty. However he was quite experienced in the art of slowly and carefully pulling down a nation from the inside. As for Valdemar, well she would topple like any other nation. Her precious Heralds would become little more than hated perishes in the land they'd once ruled. He would be a part of his great nation's expansion one more time.

He'd make sure of that – right now he just had to ensure that he ended up in the right place to utilize his skills.

He glanced over at the other six perfectly confident men as the Hostler brought in the first mare. Seth stood confidently, though he could tell the overly active man was having trouble keeping still. Bastien leaned against the wall as if exhausted from carrying the weight of his swollen ego. Kyde stood silently off to one side keeping aloof from the rest of them; which was entirely in keeping with his behavior for the last three weeks. Jed hadn't once seen the man actually unbend enough to pet one of the four available mares. Personally he thought the somewhat fastidious man would be happier in a desk job or as a spy in a clean building somewhere. The twins Cyril and Vern stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the wall in direct view of the door so that they would likely be the first thing the mare saw. The two were not actually twins or even siblings but they both had hair an indeterminable shade of brown that seemed to change color based upon the lighting and eyes of a ridiculously flat poop brown color. Remy stood casually off to the side of the twins.

The Hostler led the first mare – who he'd personally always called Bella, because of her beauty – to the exact center of the arena and unclipped her lead rope. The mare's ears twitched and she stomped one hoof. She stood there for a moment then trotted over to him and began nosing his hand – no doubt looking for the sugar cube he usually gave her whenever he spent time with the mare.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as he stroked her soft muzzle, "They wouldn't let me bring any sugar into the arena."

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Serenity sighed and perched herself on the arena's wooden half wall. She was there strictly to watch the proceedings. Her father would have a conniption if he knew she was here. His hysterics would have had little to do with any concern for her wellbeing. The Man had little time for his family and even less for his only daughter.

The Captain of the Emperor's Guard need not concern himself with the truly forgettable fact of his family, after all.

True he kept them well provided for, but she would have liked a father who actually cared. Not one who's solitary concern was for appearances.

Her father never seemed to notice her or her siblings unless they managed to commit an act so egregious it warranted _his_ attention rather than their mother's.

She knew that her father had never wanted a family – to one of the emperor's elite guard a family was little more than a liability. He'd married her mother only because he'd had to shortly before her eldest brother was born. Out of his three children Douglas was his favorite – probably because he was already on his way to becoming an adapt class mage.

Martin – her other brother, had the potential to become a master mage and had joined the army three years ago. He'd earned their father's attention by rising through the ranks rapidly. She'd often heard their mother – an adapt class mage herself – bragging to her friends about her children and 'good breeding'.

Still her father had paid less attention to her and Martin then he ever had to their elder brother. For years she'd hoped that she would surpass her eldest brother. At the least, she'd prayed to have the same mage potential as Martin, but as of about three weeks ago -

Her life was over.

She may have only been twelve, but she would never forget the pain of seeing the disdain in both her parents eyes when she'd had her potential tested.

She didn't have enough Mage gift to be useful for anything beyond serving as a power source for one of the Great Mages.

It was not a life she would ever have imagined for herself, let alone wanted.

But, her wishes didn't matter and neither did her standards of living. Her father had arranged for her to be given to one of the Great Mages. She'd learn enough about her ability to not be a danger to others and to be able to act as a lamp; other than that her gift would be siphoned off for the use of someone more useful to the empire.

She wanted to hate her father – she really did.

The mage who'd come to test her had told them not to expect much from her but had mentioned – rather off handedly – that if her gift was properly nurtured by the master she was given to, or if her ability opened just a little more she would have the chance at becoming a master mage. He'd suggested giving her to one of the higher mages who would give her that chance but warned them not to expect her to become anything more advanced than a journeymen mage.

At first she'd held out the hope that her parents would find her a teacher that would actually teach her. However her father had reveled who he'd arranged to send her to just last night. The Great Mage Hynek was well known for his opinion that women belonged barefoot and pregnant, their magical abilities either bound or siphoned off by a male mage for the mutual good of community and the poor gentle woman whose energies were better spent tending her husband's children, and darning his socks.

She had to find some way to make her parents proud of her. It was the only thing she could think of that would prove to her parents that she was worth something.

Serenity groaned at the monumental task ahead of her, and tried not to start crying.

She looked out at the women who were going to support the empire by bring her enemy, Valdemar to her knees. She sighed, watching the women with no small amount of envy. Only one of them was a mage, and yet all of the women who'd been given the opportunity to go on this mission were treated with respect.

A respect she could only dream of.

She wished she was one of them, proud, respected agents of their emperor.

She'd gotten to know them all over the last few weeks.

Meredith had gotten her wish, the horse she'd fallen in love with had wandered over to her, and she was quietly petting him, she'd obviously won the horse's affection. She couldn't help wondering if Meredith would name the stallion Shadowless as she'd threatened or not. A few minutes later Riley pulled herself up onto the back of the only horse she'd spent a lot of time with, Greyfell, she'd always called the stallion Greyfell. Avani she noted had also managed to win Silili's affection.

She sighed; she was too young to be a spy.

And in any case, no one had ever managed to truly infiltrate Valdemar. The mage Hulda being the only exception to that, and while she'd managed to get into the castle and had spent some time working to bring down the country, they had found her and she'd been forced to flee. However, according to her father the woman hadn't been able to use her magic while in the heathen land.

Something had rendered it impossible.

Looking out at the men and women who were being sent on this mission she knew exactly how to impress her family.

Exactly what she had to do to prove she had more purpose in life then to be a power source for someone else.

Tomorrow she and her fat little pony were to set out for Hynek's manor in the country side. They'd never get there. Tomorrow the men women and children of the Great Fair would be leaving and heading west toward the next city were they would stop and sell their wares and to add more horse flesh to their lines so that they would always have fresh strong horses to bring to be sold to the nation's military on their twice annual drive. She would insert herself into the mass of travelers exciting the city tomorrow and follow them west until they changed course. From their she would make her way to Valdemar and insert herself carefully into the capital, and carefully bring the nation to its knees –

On her own if she had to.

That would prove to her father that she was worth something.

She would make her family proud.

Her plan would work…

It had to.


	51. Conversations and teaching misadventures

Yozak sighed as he settled his still squirming Mate down against his chest. He had to admit he was a little worried about the other man. It had been two days since he'd gone out of Rutt and rather than getting better, Conrart had actually gotten worse.

This was not going as he'd expected.

It was common knowledge that once the more dominant partner in a relationship went out of season, a few things could happen depending on the couple. If both partners were submissive then nothing changed, the two would still cuddle and bed each other. On the other hand if both partners were dominant then the partner who'd just gone out of season would discover their roles rather abruptly reversed. When one partner was submissive however, then one of two things might occur.

The submissive could simply relax and become very cuddly for the remainder of their season, or they could become almost desperate for the touch of their mate. He'd thought Conrart would be the former rather than the latter based upon they way he'd acted during the war.

However, it appeared not.

He shifted slightly and gently rearranged Conrart against his chest, tenderly caressing the smaller man's side and hip hoping the gentle touch would settle him somewhat. Yozak was keeping a tight rein on his libido. Even now that he was out of season, Conrart was beautiful and his soft mewling cries were arousing.

They were meant to be.

Still it didn't make controlling his libido any easier. The soft touch of his hand against the smaller man's skin settled Conrart who promptly snuggled into his chest and slid into the arms of sleep.

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Selenay sighed as she gazed at the large pile of papers on her desk, it was mid May and she had a lot of paperwork to sludge through. She looked up at the light tap on her office door, and nodded to Herald Yozak as the young man entered the room.

"Hello Yozak, what can I do for you?" she inquired, glad for the distraction.

He smiled at her and she couldn't help thinking about the fact that he was one of the few Heralds she couldn't read as she gestured for him to take a seat. He did willingly enough, and they passed a moment in silence as the man seemed to gather himself.

After a moment he spoke, "Highness, about six months ago I informed you that I was in Rutt."

Selenay raised an eyebrow, "Yes, although I believe you did not consider it important enough to concern me until after you gave my husband a black eye." She replied with wry humor, before adding. "Why do you bring it up now?"

Yozak smirked at her in response, before replying "Conrart's in season," almost offhandedly.

"Oh dear," Selenay replied sharply suppressing the urge to groan, "And you are still in season, are you not?"

Yozak snorted, "as of three days ago, no." He replied candidly, "Hence my bringing Conrart's season up to your attention at all."

Selenay felt the tension in her back and shoulders bleed away, "Thank the gods," she said with a sigh of relief. "With Daren's brother coming to visit in a fortnights' time, the last thing we need is the two of you attempting to kill each other in the corridors."

Yozak laughed. "I'd more likely to attempt to _mate_ with Conrart while he's in Heat, so no worries there."

Selenay flinched, "Considering the Rethwellan's opinion of the Shaych that would be a diplomatic nightmare." she replied, dry humor softening her words slightly. After a second it occurred to her, "wait, _heat?"_

Yozak sighed, "Yes heat" he replied softly.

"Heat in what sense?" she enquired, Yozak's only response was to raise an eyebrow. Blushing she asked, "You mean like a cat?"

Yozak smiled softly "kind of like a cross between a bitch and a queen really." He said simply, "Submissive's don't tend to throw themselves at people, other than the person they actually want; although some do. However they are more susceptible to suggestion or to insistence."

"I see." Selenay replied after a few seconds spent mentally sputtering.

Yozak sighed, "Actually I'm not sure you do."

"Care to explain it to me then?"

Yozak ran a hand through his hair. "Conrart for the most part will be fine unless the suggestions are of a sexual nature… also Conrart is highly susceptible, even to things other submissive's wouldn't be. I don't know how he managed to hide it all these years, really."

Selenay rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Are you telling me I should remove Conrart from active duty?"

Yozak blinked, "Not entirely no. Just don't send him out on circuit."

"That can be arranged," Selenay replied with a nod. "Anything else I should know?"

"Conrart will only be in season for a few more months, he apparently went into season while he was on circuit." Yozak told her mildly.

Selenay winced, "I see," she replied slowly. "So when he was in the vales." She closed her eyes briefly, "he was in the vales," she repeated with growing alarm. The Hawkbrothers were not known for celibacy, or for subtly in suggestion. She spent a moment trying to figure out how to ask after the sexual health of one of her Heralds. However Yozak interrupted her before she had the chance to do more than sputter inarticulately.

"Van was able to exert enough control over Conrart to ensure that he didn't get hurt." He replied softly.

Selenay nodded relieved. "Good to know." She replied. "Is there anything that can be done for Conrart? I know your people have a tea for Rutt, is there something similar for Heat?"

Yozak inclined his head, "Yes and I made certain Conrart was taking it the second I found out he was in Heat." He paused, a curious look on his face before enquiring lightly. "Didn't Elizabeth tell you there was a tea for Heat? She spent the better part of three hours in the greenhouse with me learning how to make it and modifying it so that a human could drink it."

"No she didn't, I suppose she didn't think it important enough to bother me with." Selenay replied thoughtfully, before adding. "Is there anything else I should know about your seasons?"

Yozak flushed, "about Season, no." he replied. "However there are some things you need to know about mated pairs – which is what Conrart and I are."

Selenay nodded. "Then by all means enlighten me."

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"You told Selenay _What?!" _ Conrart screeched, though he would fervently deny the fact that he was capable of producing such a shrill sound. He couldn't believe Yozak's audacity.

Yozak raised an eyebrow and rubbed at his no doubt ringing ears. Mazoku had exceptional hearing well into ranges beyond that of a human and Conrart's own ears rang with the shrillness of his words.

"Conrart calm down." Yozak replied mildly.

"Don't you tell me to calm down! If I wanted _anyone _to know I'd have told them. Damn it Yozak. How could you humiliate me like that? How could you tell her something so personal? Did it ever occur to that if I wanted her to know, I would have told her myself?" Conrart crossed his arms and glared at his mate, he was humiliated, angry and more than a little hurt. "Shinou I, I've never told anyone about… _about my condition_ and I wanted it to stay that way. What gave you the right to tell Selenay of all people?"

Yozak's eyebrow had all but met his hairline at the word "condition," and he took a deep calming breath.

"Come on Con, calm down." He replied gently. "She needed to know."

"She did not!" Conrart snapped. "There was absolutely no reason why you needed to tell her _that." _He took a breath and continued in a softer voice. He couldn't believe Yozak thought he was so weak that he needed the queen of all people to be informed of his condition.

_:Chosen you're being foolish.: _Vanyel informed him in exasperation. _: I doubt Yozak thinks your weak. As for your 'condition' as you so eloquently put it, there is nothing wrong with you.:_

Frustrated Conrart mentally snapped at the stallion to mind his own business. He could feel Vanyel snort through their bond.

Which only made him all the more frustrated

Yozak sighed, "Conrart, think for a moment what would happen if both you and Queen Selenay were in danger. If I could only get to one of you, our people know the risk, just as they know the outcome. Selenay does not!"

Conrart bloody well knew who's life and safety Yozak would see to first. Had their roles been reversed, he would have done the same thing. Hell he had done similar in his position as Captain of Yuri's guard and as Commander of his Calvary. Still it didn't mean he had to _like_ what Yozak had done. Unable to contradict Yozak's logic, but still beyond furious, he raised his chin and exited the room in his most dignified huff.

Muttering to himself, in six languages, about annoying, pragmatic, copper haired, louts who's "ends justify the means" strategy at life was aggravating in the extreme, and likely to end in a perpetually empty bed if he didn't pull his damned head of ridiculously soft, fine, copper hair out of his ass and realize that his backwards optimistic worldview of – "Could be worse – we could all be dead," wasn't going to do him much damned good if he drove his mate mad enough to ring his admittedly gorgeous neck.

The fact that Yozak was currently laughing at him –

Was not helping the fop's chances of a warm body in his bed in the near future.

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Yozak lay quietly in his empty bed, gazing up at the ceiling he couldn't see and wondering if Conrart would really stay away all night. He didn't have long to wait for his answer though. The soft sound of his door opening and a trickle of exhaustion, lust, timidness, and mild annoyance washing over his empathy via his eternally open connection to his mate heralded Conrart's arrival. He lay still knowing full well that Conrart was less likely to turn right back around if he thought he was asleep before he'd actually reached the bed.

On occasion the smaller man had been willing to sacrifice sleep for pride until he was actually warm and comfortable.

Yozak was taking no chances, so he feigned sleep as Conrart drew nearer.

"I know you're awake," Conrart said softly into the din.

Yozak sighed and rolled over, folding down the covers in clear invitation. "I didn't want 'his stubbornness' to run back to his own room." He replied in the same soft tone, using his childhood nickname for Conrart in a princely snit.

Conrart stripped out of his robe and slipped into bed beside him, naked as the day he was born. "Great One, you're freezing!" Yozak exclaimed wrapping the smaller man in his arms and pulling him up against his chest, before quickly rearranging the blankets and tucking them around Conrart's slim shoulders. He could feel him shivering – Conrart always had gotten cold easily.

"Thank you," Conrart said softly snuggling into his chest. There was a brief pause and then Conrart whispered "I'm sorry Yoz, had I been in your place I would have done the same."

Yozak smiled and kissed the smaller man's neck, "no need to apologize love, I understand."

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Conrart groaned as he sat down on the bed he shared with Yozak. He'd spent the better part of the day working with students in the salle and he was very sore. He'd been trying to teach several of the students to use everything around them as a weapon. In hind sight that likely had not been the brightest lesson to be teaching a class that heavy in blue clad students.

End result: he was very exhausted and ached all over.

Grumbling under his breath about students that were going to be the death of him, he began to attempt to massage the knots out of his right shoulder.

He was still sore an hour later when Yozak came home. True to character Yozak dropped the leather shoulder bag he used to carry the students' work and his teaching materials down onto a chair before ambling into what was still technically his bedroom.

"You up for din-... are you all right?"

Conrart groaned, "I had the idiotic idea of teaching a class full of blues to use everything in their surroundings as a weapon."

"Any casualties, beside your dignity?" Yozak enquired as he settled himself down beside Conrart on the edge of the bed.

Conrart flushed, "Just my back, and hip."

Yozak nodded, and Conrart felt the other man's mind brush his own, before the other man asked, "Would you like a backrub?" in a carefully neutral voice.

If he was honest with himself he didn't know how that made him feel – ever since he'd initiated the second test, Yozak had handled him with kid-gloves. It was as if he was afraid he'd accidently influence him into doing something he wasn't ready for. It meant Yozak was almost constantly checking on his emotional and mental state _before _the other man was willing to put a hand on him. It was endearing –

And damned annoying

"Yes please." He replied softly.

Yozak inclined his head. "Before or after dinner?" he asked gently.

Conrart groaned, carefully pulled off his shirt and after a moment's thought he simply stripped down to his 'standard issue panties' (as Yozak had always called them) and crawled up the bed until he could stretch out.

Yozak gave a long whistle at the sight of his bruised back, "make that a massage and I'll send a page to bring us some dinner. Are you sure you don't have any fractured ribs under that bruise or should I send for Elizabeth?"

"No thank you, I know what fractured ribs feel like and mine are just bruised. I'll be fine with a massage, and some bruise salve." Conrart replied.

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Yozak briefly considered asking exactly when Conrart had learned what fractured ribs felt like – but dismissed it, since Conrart told him just about everything and he was fairly certain that the man had probably learned about _that _when he'd been taken prisoner by King Belar. He shifted his weight slightly as he straddled the other man's hips and began to work the knots out of Conrart's shoulders, before shifting tactics and keeping his touches more sensual as he worked his way down over the bruises, his hands gently working the salve into the abused flesh.

Conrart didn't need any more pain.

The smaller man squirmed slightly under his touch, but he could feel Conrart relaxing as he carefully concentrated on making his massage soothing and avoided touching anything even remotely related to an erogenous zone. It didn't take long before Conrart completely relaxed under his gentle touch.

Conrart had pulled on a robe by the time their dinner arrived and had taken up residence on their sofa, relaxed despite his bruises. Yozak was profoundly thankful that whatever had made Conrart desperate for his touch when he'd first gone out of Rutt had finally passed. It had taken about three days but Conrart had finally calmed and gone back to his normal behavior of simply curling up against his chest.

If he didn't know better he'd say Conrart had actually been pair-bound.

The very idea was idiotic.

But it was the only thing that had matched Conrart's symptoms.

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Yozak smiled to himself as he gently ran his hand over Conrart's hip. The other man had been asking for a massage multiple times a day for the past two weeks. It had only taken a few days before Yozak had realized that Conrart was so relaxed there wasn't a single knotted muscle for him to work out and the rest of the week to work out that all Conrart really wanted was his touch.

He'd changed his tactics slightly keeping the massages light and airy, trying to sooth Conrart, and doing his level best to keep from arousing the smaller man. Conrart would curl up against his chest afterwards and just rest there, his breathing patterns making it clear he wasn't asleep; just extremely relaxed.

Conrart shifted slightly and cuddled a bit further into his chest as he slipped into sleep. Yozak smiled and softly dragged his hand up Conrart's bare back and after a moment began to card his fingers through his mate's hair. He'd let the other man sleep for the next hour or so and then he'd wake him for dinner.

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Conrart suppressed the urge to laugh at the papers he'd been reading, some of the answers he'd gotten were downright amusing. He'd assigned a four page paper on the policies, procedures, and important changes and events during the reign of one of the twenty-seven Maous of the student's choice. Unsurprisingly most of his students had chosen Shinou, Maou Henstridge Davidson (more commonly known as King Slaughter) and Heika Yurri.

He set aside the seventh essay he'd graded on how Heika Yurri earned the honorific title: 'The Just', and poured himself another glass of water. He picked up the next essay on the stack noting the fact that it was at least eight pages. Idly he wondered which Maou, Bardic Trainee Saxon had decided to write an epic novel about.

_Queen Cecilia von Spitzweg, 26__th__ Maou of Shin Makoku._

Despite himself, he laughed. Her reputation as 'flighty' and her position as the leader of the 'Free Love Movement" notwithstanding; his mother had actually been a good Maou. It hadn't been until after his father's death that things had gone downhill under the regency of his much detested Uncle.

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His mouth was hanging open in abject horror, disgust, and more than a little indignation when Yozak cleared his throat. Conrart jerked, his head snapping up to meet his mate's gaze so quickly he was surprised he didn't get whiplash. He sputtered and tried to forget the sordid images the essay had painted of his mother.

"Are you alright, you look like you're going to be sick?" Yozak enquired, gently bringing his hand up to rest on his forehead as if to check his temperature.

Conrart swallowed and held out the paper he'd been too appalled to put down; holding it loosely by one corner. "I asked for a four page paper on the political policies and governance of any one of our 27 Maous – and got _THIS_. So yes, I think I may be sick."

Yozak raised his eyebrows, and carefully took the paper out of Conrart's nearly limp fingers. Placing it on the table he led him away from the desk in their rooms and over to the couch. Conrart shuddered as his stomach rolled, settling himself against his mate's side, he'd only read the first page.

It was enough to make him very, very ill.

Honestly he hoped the trainee had written more than porn, but was frankly too alarmed by the idea of even attempting to find out. For crying out loud the damned free love movement was mentioned in exactly one paragraph and dealt not with his mother's love life but rather with her desire to see the old noble customs about purity upon one's marriage reduced so that peoples' lives were not ruined by an act of stupidity before marriage!

_Did the little –_

_Did he even read the chapters on the 27 Maous?_

It took him a moment to realize Yozak was gently rubbing his back, he looked up at the larger man and quietly enquired, "Is it wrong of me to want to burn that...essay?"

Yozak gave him a gentle squeeze, "Just fail him and make him rewrite it – like we all do when Trainee Saxon's rather sordid imagination gets the better of him. It won't do the Heraldic reputation any good if we start burning papers that we find offensive. Besides the Bardic Circle is already convinced that all he'll ever write once he gets his scarlets is ballads of drunken debauchery."

"But, but… this was about mother!" he squeaked and then added, "How'd you know it was Trainee Saxon?"

Yozak winced, "No wonder you look green." He said gently. "Let's get your mind off of that paper and change the subject shall we?"

Conrart nodded. "Anything to take my mind off the papers I still have to grade."

Yozak leaned down and kissed him gently on top of the head.

Conrart leaned into his mate, a soft mewling noise tearing its way up his throat and past his lips at the gentle attention. Yozak purred softly in response sending a shiver down Conrart's spine. He moved closer to the larger man, so that he was all but sitting in his lap, chirping and mewing softly in response to Yozak's soft purring. He shifted slightly, fidgeting uncertainly before climbing into Yozak's lap and burying his nose in Yozak's neck, nuzzling the larger man.

Abruptly Yozak chuckled, and shook his head slightly, "how did I miss this?" he asked softly.

Conrart sat up leaning back a bit so that he could look his mate in the eyes. "Miss what?"

Yozak made of soft chirp-like purring noise in response, and Conrart felt his cheeks flushing in embarrassment at his instinctive mewling response. Horrified and humiliated he clapped a hand over his mouth, and slid backwards off of the other man's lap so that he sat beside him on the sofa his legs still draped across Yozak's lap.

"That," Yozak replied softly, gently pulling him back up into his lap. "You're calling; you've been doing it for years."

"I- Yozak, I-"

Yozak smiled and gently rubbed the small of Conrart's back, "I like it," he said softly. "I just wonder how I missed it. I purr and you mew in response. The only explanation I have is that I didn't know you were a submissive so I wasn't looking for the signs."

Conrart shifted slightly, "I'm sorry," he replied softly; "I should have told you."

Yozak sighed, "I understand why you didn't." He hesitated slightly before adding. "I know you spent part of every one of my Rutts with me, but that doesn't explain how we were able to mate. Can you tell me about your Heats?"

"What about them?" he replied timidly.

"When?" Yozak asked simply. "I doubt you were faking Rutt while in Heat."

Conrart flushed, "I – I waited until a week after I was out of Heat… faking Rutt while feeling sick didn't seem like a good idea so I waited for the sickness to pass before pretending to start pre-Rutt."

Yozak inclined his head, acknowledging the sense in that, before asking softly. "Heat makes you feel sick?"

"Only after the last month," Conrart replied softly. "I feel sickly and off for the next week."

Yozak shifted slightly, "that sucks, I'm sorry." He paused then added, "right before you went into pre-Rutt. So there was the war, then practically every 10 years after that until now." When Conrart nodded he pressed on. "How the hell did I not notice?"

"You've said that already." Conrart replied with slight amusement.

Yozak sighed, "yes but it was so obvious."

Conrart raised an eyebrow but refrained from commenting.

Yozak smiled at him, kissing him gently before he continued. "So let's see, I was there for the entirety of your first heat."

Conrart flushed, he knew Yozak was referring to the war which was actually his third Heat, but he couldn't tell his mate that, Yozak would be disgusted – and it was technically true anyway. Okay so Yozak had only been there for a little over half of his first heat, but he had crawled into bed with Yozak almost as soon as he'd gotten home from school, tucking himself against the larger boy's chest crying quietly over the events of his 85th birthday.

He closed his eyes briefly and silently lied to his best friend _again._

He hated to do it…

But Yozak simply couldn't know how much of a dirty whore he was.

So he said nothing

Yozak laughed a bit self deprecatingly, "and I got ridiculously over protective of you, going so far as to coax you into my bedroll. Using the most ridiculous excuses imaginable, I might add. After that you quite happily shared my bed until the end of the war. I was content to keep you safely tucked half underneath me from the night you went into heat until the day we both went out of season, during which time I was celibate after losing interest in the only willing submissive in our platoon."

Conrart flushed refraining from telling his mate that the thought of how Olaf had warmed Yozak's bed, even for only a fortnight made him want to hiss and growl. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he had always enjoyed the feeling of Yozak's comforting weight on top of him. After he'd gone into Heat that comforting weight had taken on an additional pleasure he wasn't entirely comfortable with. Once Yozak had started his Rutt, the soft sound of his rumbling purr was comforting, enticing and erotic. He loved the way the soft noise made him feel, and yet he feared the instincts it raised. He'd often awoken during one of his Heats, having wiggled his way beneath Yozak, with his legs spread wide. The few times he hadn't snuggled into Yozak until he was underneath the other man, he'd awoken more than half on top of him usually with their legs twined.

It was damned embarrassing.

"You chased Olaf out of the tent once." He replied softly after a moment of silence, "and you used to growl at him, if he or any of the other men got to close to the bedroll while I was in your arms. I felt safe." His ears burned with that admission, and he'd added the last part before he'd realized exactly what he'd just said.

He tucked his face into Yozak's shoulder in mortification. For a submissive nothing was more intimate than calling…

Unless one was actually _being_ intimate

Although, according to Yozak a submissive called for a variety of reasons and not all of them sexual, the same was true of dominants.

What Yozak had been doing however, was blatantly possessive, and sexual. His actions had rather loudly proclaimed Conrart to be his …

That Conrart had enjoyed the attention and found it comforting –

Yozak chuckled, cutting off his thoughts. "And here I'd thought the only thing stopping you from skinning me over taking that liberty was the fact that you'd been asleep;" he said mildly.

Conrart flushed and cuddled a little closer to Yozak's chest. "It made me feel safe," he confessed softly into Yozak's chest again.

He felt Yozak's deep rumbling chuckle as much as he heard it. "I'm glad you feel safe with me." He said sincerely before pressing on with his original topic of conversation. "You spent the first month of my first Rutt following the war sleeping naked in my bed, during which time I was content to use you like a teddy bear. That is until Gwendal sent you to deal with the border raids. Which I might add greatly annoyed me at the time. However, you returned while I was in the middle of getting my rear end handed to me by an equally dominant male who happened to be older and more experienced than me, in a battle over a lass I had been bedding since you left, and wasn't interested in losing to him when she'd just come into season herself. Upon seeing you I decided that there was absolutely no way in hell I was going lose that fight in front of you, and promptly wiped the floor with him. But it was you who wound up warming my bed for the last two months of my Rutt, and I was once again celibate for the rest of the season – despite the fact that you slept naked as the day you were born. Did I leave anything out?"

Conrart shook his head "No," he said softly.

Yozak gently stroked his hair, "tell me about that season's heat." He said firmly, before reaching out and gently placing his hand under Conrart's chin, forcing him to look up into his flame blue eyes.

Conrart sighed, "That was a bad season for me, and I was too scared to sleep. The only time I got a full night's sleep was in your arms, or immediately after you'd given me a massage – because it made me relax. I was safe… you wouldn't let anything happen to me."

Yozak smiled tenderly at him, , "That was the year after Gisela decided you should start getting massages to help with your stress levels and hopefully your hip as well." He acknowledged, and then added cheekily, "If memory serves, I gave you a lot of massages that Heat."

"Yes," Conrart squeaked

Yozak snorted. "No, _a lot _of massages and if memories serves, I stayed with you every night of that Heat or I'd wake up to you crawling into bed with me a few hours later because you couldn't sleep. I sleep naked and so did you that season. Yet somehow I was still celibate."

Conrart cringed slightly, and then mewled happily when Yozak began to deftly rub the small of his back.

Yozak kissed him gently before pressing on. "Let's see, my next Rutt was when I was 135 and you would have been 127/128?"

"127," Conrart replied softly.

Yozak nodded, "you where there for the last two months of my pre-Rutt, and all six months of my actual Rutt; which I spent celibate – somehow, despite the fact that there was a naked man in my bed every night."

Conrart's flush was an almost Bardic Scarlet, "not exactly." He replied softly.

"Explain?" Yozak said in a tone that was far harsher then he'd intended.

"You weren't exactly celibate," Conrart replied softly finding something in the vicinity of his lap very interesting. "I – I kept waking up with your hand between my legs almost nightly."

"So I spent that Rutt molesting my best friend? Well that's just great!" Yozak replied sarcastically.

Conrart flinched, "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you, and I felt safe so I just moved your hand and went back to sleep."

"Please tell me this is a very distasteful joke?" Yozak replied with an almost desperate air.

Conrart looked down, and slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't"

Yozak was redder then his hair briefly before all the color drained from his face. "You kept spending the night with me despite everything, because you have trouble sleeping? Conrart, do you have any idea how lucky you are? Do you have any idea what I could have done? We were both naked, do you have any idea how much that would have hurt?" he was horrified by what he could have done, and horrified that Conrart didn't seem even remotely alarmed.

Conrart couldn't help being confused, Yozak was alarmed and angry – but he knew the other man could never hurt him. He looked up at his mate, his eyes wide with confusion. "You would never hurt me." He replied with all the confidence he felt in that simple truth.

Yozak sputtered, Conrart looked up at him with an innocent naivety that Yozak frankly couldn't believe the other man was still capable of. Still it soothed his ruffled feathers and he relaxed gently kissing the other man lightly before continuing on with his original topic. "Your next heat was 10 years ago when you were 139, am I correct?" Conrart made an affirmative noise, and he continued. "Again we slept together naked." He said before adding softly, "Please tell me I wasn't molesting you while you were in heat!"

Conrart shook his head in the negative, and snuggled deeper into Yozak's well muscled chest. "You just held me. I was safe; you kept me safe… even during your first Rutt."

Yozak sighed, "Thank the great one," He said softly. Conrart might not have understood the significance of what he'd been doing in his sleep but he sure as hell did. He paused, considering what Conrart had just said, why was his first Rutt significant in this conversation? "Conrart," he asked after a few seconds. "What did you mean by 'even during my first Rutt'?"

Conrart blanched, "Nothing, just I was having night terrors and was sharing your bed even then and you made me feel safe. You were someone I could just be safe with."

Yozak raised an eyebrow, Conrart's speech was smooth and if he didn't know the man so well he likely would have believed him, but the man's body language screamed – _lie._

"What did you mean by, 'even during my first Rutt'?" he asked again firmly before adding sarcastically; "What you going to tell me you were in Heat then too?"

"NO!" Conrart replied a little too sharply, all of the color draining out of his face.

Yozak stared at him in abject shock as the implications of his body language and tone washed over him. "You were in Heat during my first Rutt." He said softly. Conrart whimpered, pulling away from him to bury his face in his hands, the odd mixture of embarrassment, shame and fear was plain to Yozak's empathy and he quickly mastered his dismay. He reached out with gentle hands and pulled Conrart back into his arms, purring softly to quiet his mate. "You started early," he said softly. He was more than a little alarmed by the spike in Conrart's fear and the way the smaller man flinched at that comment. "Conrart?" he enquired gently.

"I'm not a whore." The other man replied softly, struggling to get out of his grasp.

"Never said you were," Yozak replied, keeping Conrart firmly in his arms.

Conrart squirmed. "Only whores go into heat before their first century." He said in a manner that suggested he was quoting someone – or several idiots.

"Where in Shinou's name did you get that idea?" Yozak asked a little sharply.

"Everyone knows it." Conrart replied mildly.

"That's just stupid noble nonsense." Yozak replied firmly. "Next you'll be telling me you believe that noble nonsense about masturbating weakening your Marioku."

Conrart snorted, and relaxed into his embrace. "I love you, Yozak." He said softly. He was honestly amazed by the fact that Yozak wasn't treating him any differently after finding out that he'd gone into heat so young. But would Yozak still be so understanding if he knew exactly how young he'd truly been?

He couldn't take the risk that he wouldn't be.

Yozak smiled "I love you too".

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AN. firstly i would like to apologize for the wait, we spent part of this semester living on friends floors out of suitcases and we are very behind in classes. secondly i would like to apologize for any misspellings of Valdemarian terms as one of the casualties of the fecal-matter that has been going on is the loss of my Valdemar Companion. it may take us some time to get the next chapter edited and posted sorry for the delay.


	52. Chapter 52

Yozak rose to his feet with a soft sigh. Conrart had been in the other room for the last half a mark and he was beginning to worry about the other man. Conrart had slipped off to deal with a problem that had arisen after Yozak had spent some time exploring the other man's body. Conrart wasn't ready for sex, and honestly he didn't want his mate's first time to be in the frenzy of his season anyway. He wanted Conrart to enjoy his first time, and Shinou he wanted them both in their right minds for it. However that didn't stop either of them from enjoying a little bit of touching.

He'd taken it very slowly, and they'd worked their way up to where they were, at an agonizingly slow crawl. Even now, Conrart refused to let him take down his pants or touch his penis and still ran off to take care of any issues their nightly caresses produced in the solitude provided by the other room.

It was cute.

But still half a candle-mark to jack off – was a little much.

He made his way quietly across his bedroom and over to the door to the living room, he knocked briefly on the door frame before entering. Conrart was pacing the room, trying desperately to ignore his raging erection. Yozak raised an eyebrow, with the way Conrart was acting, he half expected the other man to make a shooing gesture at the 'disobedient appendage', the fact that the smaller man was all but hopping from foot to foot while he paced and muttering "why won't you go away" really didn't help the mental image.

He cleared his throat, and Conrart jumped looking over at him in alarm.

"Y-Yozak," Conrart sputtered, "how long have you been there?"

Yozak raised an eyebrow, "only long enough to notice your problem has yet to leave. Why don't you take care of the problem?" he asked, making a subtle if crude hand gesture as he spoke.

Conrart's bewildered expression was truly cute, particularly when coupled with the fact that he was attempting to hide himself with his hands while determinedly not touching.

"I am taking care of it," Conrart replied in a slightly exasperated tone. "It normally doesn't take this long for it to go away. Could you leave please? You're making it worse Yozak."

"Alright," Yozak replied flippantly as he turned and walked out of the room. "I'll leave you to it. But you really should _handle_ the situation." He couldn't help it; he sent his mate the mental image that had been replaying in his head since the smaller man had run off to the other room. Conrart's horrified cry of 'ewww Yozak' was not the response he'd expected, but it was amusing none the less.

Almost half a candle-mark later, Yozak slipped out of bed and made his way back to the other room. Conrart was, were he'd left him, quietly pacing the living room. He turned slightly and Yozak got a good look at the smaller man's pained expression and the still swollen cause of his discomfort.

Yozak sighed, that had to be painful.

"Conrart honey, come to bed." He said gently, "you can ignore it just as well there as you can here. At least in bed you won't run the risk of catching cold." He walked cautiously over to the other man and gently placed his hands on Conrart's slender shoulders.

His mate whimpered softly, "It won't go away." He said in a plaintive voice, "It hurts."

Yozak rubbed his shoulder gently as he steered him towards the bedroom. "I know it hurts," he replied soothingly, "but unless you actually take care of it, there's nothing that can be done about it."

"I – I don't know how." Conrart replied softly, his bare skin turning an almost cherry red under Yozak's hands.

Yozak froze, he hadn't expected that. "You've never –"

"No! It's wrong." Conrart interrupted sharply. "It's dirty, a noble doesn't waste his seed and –"

Yozak couldn't help it, he laughed. "I've seen plenty of nobles 'waste their seed'," he retorted.

Conrart glared at him over his shoulder. "Only after their first Rutt not before; and a Submissive isn't…" he trailed off and looked down in embarrassment.

Yozak settled Conrart down onto the bed, climbed in behind him and pulled the covers over them both. He wrapped his arms gently around Conrart and lowered them both down. "Try to get some sleep, Conrart." He said soothingly. "The pain will have passed in the morning." As an afterthought he added, "Or I could take care of it for, you if you'd prefer."

Conrart shook his head almost franticly, before settling himself against Yozak's chest and attempting to sleep. Yozak lay in bed, gently cradling his mate to him, he closed his eyes and attempted to get to sleep, however the prospect was made somewhat difficult by his squirming mate.

Almost five minutes later Conrart whimpered and whispered "Yozak, please?" in a small voice.

"What is it?" Yozak enquired gently, propping himself up on one elbow so that he could look down at his mate.

Conrart flushed, "I – I didn't know you were still awake." He admitted softly.

Yozak chuckled, "You are such a prude," he told the other man gently. After a few seconds he added, "My offer to take care of it for you still stands."

Conrart shifted against him for a moment, "Okay, please Yozak." Conrart whimpered.

Yozak shifted slightly and reached into the drawer beside his bed, it didn't take him long to liberate a small vile of oil. He doubted it would take much to make Conrart cum, but he wanted to make sure the experience was one Conrart enjoyed. Deftly he coated his hand in oil, before reaching down and slowly running his fingers over Conrart's straining erection in a feather light caress. Conrart shuddered and arched his back slightly as Yozak trailed his fingers gently back up the vein that ran along the underside of Conrart's throbbing penis. Conrart arched into him, gasping "Yozak," in a soft breathy voice as he came. Conrart collapsed against him, his eyes sliding closed as he shuddered and gasped in reaction, before … simply falling asleep.

Yozak smiled at his sleeping mate before quietly setting about cleaning up the mess Conrart's orgasm had made. That task completed he shifted Conrart's still sleeping form into his arms and pulled the covers back around them both.

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Conrart yawned as he climbed up out of the arms of sleep. He'd had an interesting and truly lovely dream. It couldn't have been anything else, he knew from experience that anyone touching … _there_ hurt. Still it was nice to imagine that it could be an act of gentleness and love and not an act of domination. He snuggled happily into Yozak's chest, mewing softly as his mate stroked his long hair, gently massaging the base of his skull and petting his way down his tresses to caress his hip.

"How did you sleep?" Yozak asked quietly.

Conrart made an inarticulate noise in reply while snuggling deeper into Yozak's chest. "I had a nice dream." He admitted sleepily.

"Oh?" Yozak enquired keeping up his gentle attention on Conrart's hip. "What about?"

Conrart flushed and ducked his head.

Yozak laughed, "Oh, so it was one of _those_ dreams."

Conrart sputtered inarticulately, and felt his flush getting deeper.

Yozak smiled down at him, "It's not surprising considering what we did last night."

"That actually happened?" Conrart squeaked his voice cracking at the end.

To his absolute shock Yozak fell off the bed laughing.

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Yurri sighed as he glared at the information that had come out of small Shimeron via their information network. It seemed that Belar had gotten over whatever had been keeping him quiet all these years. He didn't know the specifics of what Yozak had done – and honestly with his beloved godfather bedridden after being tortured, he hadn't much cared. By the time he had, demanding the specifics had seemed childish… he did know that Yozak had set a small fire to distract the bully while he got Conrart to safety.

True their information network had taken something of a hit when Yozak had been Chosen, but he respected the insight and the skills of his spies enough that if they told him there was trouble brewing in Dai Shimeron, then Shin Makoku was going to batten down the hatches and prepare for a storm.

He hated war, hated death and pain and injustice, but he had grown up quite a bit since he'd first been –literally - flushed into his world. Frankly seeing Conrad come home on a stretcher after being quite brutally tortured by a megalomaniac had made him realize the reality of something people had been telling him for years: not everybody was inherently good, and war didn't respect boundaries you were not prepared to defend.

He still didn't condone war, and had no intention of using this information to start one; in fact he had every intention of stepping on any such ideas coming out of the Ten Noble Lords. At least he didn't have to worry about that damned teddy bear that was standing in for the von Grantz family - as a somewhat amusing form of protest over the whole Adalbert situation - arguing with him.

More than he could say for the rest of those opinionated Lords and Ladies.

Although if he was fair he knew there would be at least three families firmly on his side, Gwendal and Günter out of respect, and Stöffel… well out of his desire to impress.

Still the whole issue was grating because now he was going to have to spend time he'd cleared for their diplomatic mission into Valdemar, dealing with Belar. He sighed, he'd have to talk to Gwendal and see what could be done to protect their people, and since he had already sent word to the Monarchs in Valdemar he was going to have to send a delegation.

They did have several trained and seasoned diplomats; much as he didn't want to he'd have to let them handle Valdemar.

A pity as he knew he wasn't the only one looking forward to that trip.

Wolfram was as well.

Wolfram didn't come right out and say it, he was far too proud, and more than a little emotionally constipated when it came to Conrart to really show it, but he did worry over his older brother and wanted what was best for him. He was also all too aware of how badly he'd treated said brother for the better part of a century.

It left him feeling utterly uncertain around the older man; it embarrassed him to no end - which made him angry.

The Blonde never had been very good at apologizing. Although Yurri was fairly certain that Conrad was aware of his little brother's flaws and didn't hold them or his earlier actions against him.

Perhaps he should have Wolfram accompany the delegation?

That seemed like a good idea.

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Gwendal sighed, as he waited for the two men he'd summoned to arrive. Honestly he didn't understand his king sometimes. Yurri insisted on giving people second chances, and while that had endeared him to them all, it was currently somewhat annoying. Yurri had decided to send Stöffel – of all people – to Valdemar as a representative of Shin Makoku. Yurri was certain that Stöffel's desire to stay in his good graces would keep him from doing anything 'too silly'.

Frankly Gwendal thought his king was being naïve… again.

He was going to have to send a more qualified envoy along with Stöffel to ensure the idiot didn't find a way to destroy the relationship they were building with Valdemar. As such he'd sent for Lord Eckhart Bhaltair. The young lord had once held the military rank of lieutenant. His military career had been short but distinguished. He'd graduated from the Shin Makoku Royal Military Academy at the age of 115, and had been assigned to Conrart's guard on the recommendation of his teachers, and the captain of Conrart's guard – Lord Odalis Gwilherm, at 116. He'd served as a member of Conrart's guard until Conrart himself had gone off to military school.

He'd helped to save Conrart's life the Beltane night before he turned 85, although what his little brother had been doing out in the woods on Beltane night he didn't know, and he'd rather severely castigated the boy for stupidity 'that could have gotten him killed and had been the ruin of a promising career' after he'd learned of the incident.

They'd never caught the perpetrators behind the ambush, but Conrart's guards had done their duty well. They'd managed to get the young prince to safety with only some bruises to show for his ordeal, despite their own injuries; young lieutenant Bhaltair however had broken his hip in three places that night. Three months of rehabilitation and healing had seen the man back on his feet, but the bone just hadn't healed properly.

The limp he'd developed had made it impossible for him to advance further militarily; however it hadn't kept him from protecting his prince. He'd only been 120 when they'd offered him an honorable discharge with a hefty severance pay. Surprisingly, Odalis had insisted on keeping him on as Conrart's guard until his services were no longer required, clamming even injured he was better than most.

He'd served as Conrart's guard for 10 more years, despite a pronounced limp and severe pain.

The premature ending of such a promising military career was regretful.

However the man did not let that stop him and chose instead to become a diplomat. He rose swiftly through the ranks until he was one of their most decorated and sought after envoys.

Unfortunately, the decades had not been kind to the young man, resulting in the need to include a healer in any diplomatic mission he attended. That was where the second man, Lord Odalis Gwilherm, came into things. The military healer had decided to try his hand at diplomacy after the war, having failed due to his inability to compartmentalize, he'd rather quickly become reattached to his old subordinate as his primary healer.

Surprisingly they worked just as well together now as they had when Conrart was a boy.

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Yozak smiled as he gently ran his hand along the shaft of Conrart's penis, it had taken nearly a week before Conrart was ready to be touched so intimately again, and another week to bring them to the point where Conrart didn't cum at the slightest stimulation. Despite himself Yozak was a bit giddy. Conrart was currently leaning up against his chest moaning in time with his touch. Yozak nuzzled the mate mark on the other man's shoulder as he gently ran his fingers across Conrart's erect member, his left hand applying gentle pressure to the area between Conrart's left hip, navel and groin; an erogenous zone that was rather unique to their species.

Or so he'd heard.

Male humans didn't have a womb; as such he doubted that gently stimulating that area would do anything for them.

Conrart was responding to the gentle stimulation with little mewls and soft breathy, yet somehow almost soundless gasps. He shifted slightly sliding his left hand down to lay feather light caresses along the inside of his thighs.

Conrart moaned, leaning further back into him as he continued his gentle petting, drawing his knees up his legs parting even further as Yozak fondled his testacies. Yozak's right hand, until now occupied with gently stroking Conrart's length, slid its way tantalizingly up from the root of his erection across the soft wisps of mahogany pubic hair and up across the hard plains of his abs to gently tweak and rub Conrart's nipples as he deftly rolled and tugged the smaller man's balls with his left hand.

"More," Conrart whimpered, "_Yozak,_ more. Please." His legs fell open as he bucked into Yozak's hand, moaning and mewling at the gentle touch.

Yozak shifted slightly and grazed his teeth across Conrart's mate mark. As Conrart squirmed against him, writhing and softly pleading for more, with mind and voice; he couldn't help wondering – was Conrart ready for more?

Actual intercourse was _out of the question_ until Conrart was safely out of Heat and fully in control of his senses, but perhaps Conrart was ready for something a little more. Carefully he lowered Conrart down to the bed sliding out from behind him, he continued his gentle assault on Conrart's mate mark, ignoring the smaller man's straining erection in favor of gently stimulating Conrart's nipples as he stroked his way across his chest and back down his body in soft tantalizing caresses. Listening to the smaller man moan, and mewl at his ministrations, he made his way slowly back down to Conrart's parted thighs and began to gently rub circles, deliberately ignored the quivering organ.

Slowly he kissed his way from Conrart's mate mark, up the line of his throat and along his jaw, until he could press their lips together in a kiss that was anything but chaste. He did his best to keep the bulk of his weight off of Conrart as the smaller man writhed against him, softly pleading for more. Gently he began to trace his way down Conrart's body with his tongue and his lips. Kissing, licking and suckling his way across Conrart's skin until he'd reached his prize. He shifted again moving his hands back down until he was once again gently teasing Conrart's straining erection, while the other hand deftly fondled Conrart's swollen balls. It didn't take long, with one hand gently teasing Conrart's erection and the other gently stimulating his testacies Conrart's erection was soon weeping.

Deftly he pinned Conrart's hips, and kissed the head of Conrart's erection before engulfing it in his mouth and beginning to suck gently in time with his soft strokes. Conrart gasped and came almost immediately.

Yozak closed his eyes savoring the flavor of Conrart's seed on his tongue for the first time. Carefully he climbed back up the bed so that he lay at his mate's side and gathered the shaking man into his arms. He gently stroked circles on the inside of the other man's thigh and listened to his soft wanton cries as Conrart settled against him utterly spent.

"Yozak?" Conrart's voice was soft, and full of concern. "I don't think that was sanitary."

Yozak blinked, and started to chuckle despite himself, he'd grown rather accustomed to Conrart's somewhat cute attempts at understanding the physical side of their relationship. He'd expected a demand for information, not a quip about sanitation.

He kissed the top of Conrart's head, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Conrart shifted against him slightly. "I'm serious." He said softly. "What if you get sick?"

That's it –

This was officially hilarious!

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Wolfram glanced around the corridor leading down to Conrart's quarters from his place in the shadows were two hallways met. Once he'd made certain that no one would see him, he made his way down the corridor, clutching the water pitcher to his chest as he went. He slipped quietly into Conrart's rooms and made his way over to the window seat, carefully he opened the window and began to water his elder brother's beloved plants.

Conrart wouldn't have wanted them to die because someone wasn't caring for them.

Beside it was all he had left of his elder brother, other than his own memories.

And they were a poor substitute.

Conrart had always been kind to him, even when he was being a brute. It wasn't until almost a year into Yuri's reign that he'd began to allow himself to see Conrart as something other then what, his own father, Waltrana and Stöffel painted him as. He'd always loved his brother, but he hadn't allowed himself the perceived weakness of showing it. Even now he had problems with it. Both of his uncles had seen to it that he'd been properly taught how much Conrart's existence shamed his mother, shamed her house.

He'd also been told it was Conrart's fault his parents had never married.

It wasn't until recently that he'd realized that was a load of manure.

Still after years of mistreating his brother, and having Conrart silently take it while still being there for him when he was needed – he found he had a hard time knowing how to act around the man.

The soft sound of the door opening got his attention and he turned around to see Murata standing in the doorway. "You know, you can still go with the delegation to Valdemar." The Great Sage said softly.

Wolfram sighed, "My place is at Yuri's side." He paused, "besides Conrart wouldn't want me to leave our king unprotected." That said he turned and headed out of the room.

"Perhaps your relationship would benefit from a letter?" Murata suggested as the other boy walked past him.

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A.N okay sorry for the long wait, life has gotten ridiculously hectic hopefully I will get the next chapter up faster. Also I am revising chapter 50 as upon rereading it I discovered it made no sense and gives off the wrong impression of Conrart and what is going on after I attempted to edit it. So please keep an eye out for the revised version of that chapter.


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